


Fall From Grace (disappear with no trace)

by thefallenmutineer



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alien Culture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Self-Harm, F/F, Left Behind - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philippa Georgiou Lives, Post-Episode: s01e03 Context is for Kings, USS Discovery (Star Trek), death doesn't always stick, see what happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefallenmutineer/pseuds/thefallenmutineer
Summary: Michael goes on a landing mission on an unknown alien planet, hunting down old technology to help put the war in their favour along with Georgiou after being assigned to discovery.Something goes wrong.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Philippa Georgiou
Comments: 47
Kudos: 110





	1. Glimpse forwards

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this chap is a flash forwards to where Michael ends up but keep reading (the rest of the fic) to see if it sticks or not

_Night had fallen._

_The planet’s moon was high in the clear, inky dark sky and shone down upon the lush green, jungle terrain that carpeted over the land like a blanket and touched over the sleek and chalk-white rocks of a mountain side, almost making it brighter in its nightly range._

_It was quiet._

_Not even the wind blew and a cold chill settled in the air but nature was unbothered. Prey was hunted, predators still fed and the cycle continued. The innocent moonlight continued on, shining down and carried on over the alien world._

_Most prominently, there was a break in the trees. Like a huge 20-foot break in the trees that stood in a perfect circle with stone slabs that evened the ground around it like a pathway. In the centre lay of this, just like the trees, a perfectly circular 16 foot opening in the ground, but to a large, almost ornamental pit like cave that stretched down for 80 feet._

_The bottom was almost water from its inside chamber filled but in its dead centre of its mouth up to the world was a flat grey stone surface that rose a foot from the water almost black moss that grew in edges and shadows. The moon light shone in and down like a torch to its centre as if to display its content._

_There, the alien form lay at the bottom in its centre of the light._

_The figure was sprawled out. A leg curled in more towards her body from the fall, the other stuck a little further out. Her right arm resting slightly curved above her head while the other was thrown off to the side close to her thigh. Brown eyes stared up endlessly, lips open only a fraction with only a few drops of dark red fluid that escaped passed her lips. Blood trailed down from under her head which was tilted over so off from facing up to the mouth; to the moon. It had seeped like ink down over the stone, darkening it further, touching into the still water but the trail was dry now._

_The uniform, apart from the blood stains from the body, were undamaged. It’s deep blue clear to see in the light, metal on the protective vest glimmering over her chest. A broken end of a rope lay at her boots. The alien’s weapon a foot away, broken on impact._

_The cavern was the cold. Far colder than the rest of the planet… Frost would almost settle if given the chance at a lesser degree of warmth but nothing moved nor stirred. The cavern was quiet and the woman still lay where she had fallen; nothing had come to investigate since it had happened, and she remained behind, even as the other aliens had left in a glazing flair of gold that left nothing behind but the fallen. The alien's screams had vanished with them. Filled with pain and panic; swallowed way._

_Michael Burnham lay alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I know this is super short and it's something that's passed through my mind for the sheer feels and angst I could douse you all in if i continue. 
> 
> I love kicking people in the feels and I don't wanna spoilt too much if I pick this up for a long story
> 
> Now, Georgiou. Her timeline differs from canon. She survives T'Kuvma's blade and gets Discovery. Michael still was in prison but Georgiou took her on after the canon shuttle failure to try and help her, not just the war. She wanted Michael to have some hope of her future. Not let her fade in and out of her life as if she wasn't there. 
> 
> Now, I'd appreate your thoughts/comments, no matter how small. I do find them a real muse booster. I might even post faster as a reward lol :)  
> Feel free to drop some kudos too bc...why not :) Feel free to check out my other trek fics.


	2. 1. Starting point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe I hoped the previous snippet in the last grabbed your curiosity. :) I wanted to hit you in the feels so I could kick you when you're down when it turns reeeeaaalll angsty.
> 
> Now, this is set before the last snippet and developing it from this point on wards.

Philippa stared at the shuttle manifest with mixed emotions that coiled around her insides. Apprehension mostly… but there was relief too that stated the discomfort of this meeting. It was bound to happen, she supposed… it was all due timing. Philippa knew she was on her way up too with Landry. She lowered the PADD down, leaning back into her chair with a heavy exhale.

It had been a _long_ six months. Even now, Philippa was still healing from T’Kuvma’s blade. An injury that should have killed her but Michael had been fast—even if it had cost them their attempted-hostage. Medical had fixed up the damage to both heart and lungs in a long 13 hour operation but her ribs, partially her sternum had been severely weakened as a result. Pain still lingered but Philippa wore a skin-tight brace under her uniformed jacket to help support her chest and back. A small price to pay to get active—to _be_ active.

To _be_ a _captain_ again.

Philippa knew what happened to Burnham. She had been in a medically induced coma at the time of her trial. Waking to hear the news. Life imprisonment. She knew she had been held at the prison facility at Starbase 21 but… Georgiou hadn’t expected her to be moved to a convict mining station on _Tellun_. The accidental rates were high even if the mines produced a lot of dilithium. One of the few things Philippa didn’t quite agree was using prisoners as manual labourers. Slave labourers if it was brought down to the basic overview. Prisoners were seen as more expendable due to their history.

 _First officer_ of a Starship to a mutineer classed _Miner_. What sort of future was that? It twisted her gut a little and picturing Burnham working hours on end in a dark pit did little to help. Philippa took a deep breath, shaking those thoughts from her mind in the next breath out.

Not now.

But Burnham did present a good….opportunity. A reputation that had caught up with her shuttle crew; leaving her at risk. Philippa pondered further but a new thought appealed...

The doors opened.

Philippa’s eyes rose to the door, fixing up an immediate mask of authority of a captain though she felt some part of her soften at the sight of her but she held all that back now. She couldn’t afford to cave to old feelings.

She was a _captain_ and Burnham was her prisoner.

Burnham did look better than expected as she walked in, an air of confusion hanging around before her head turned to her. Though her hair had grown out from the Vulcan cut and resumed natural tight curls. She looked though a little paler, with evident weight loss that made her mustard convict suit look a little big for her but her expression was…void. A crafted mask; built back from her time with the Vulcans.

If possible, Philippa watched as a little colour seemed to drain from Burnham’s face, brown eyes widened a fraction before it was gone and the eyes looked away. Down. She didn’t say anything, but Georgiou could feel the silent questions within her.

“Take a seat.” Philippa nodded to the chair in front of her desk. She had been purposeful to keep her ready room beside the bridge and to have it similar to her one on the Shenzhou. Familiarity.

Something she needed here.

Burnham moved, slow as if approaching an injured lion but Philippa said nothing, watching as she slowly sunk into the seat, stiff as a board and right on the edge.

It couldn’t help but bother her a fraction on this unusual behaviour was bordering an almost pitying. Though she knew it wasn’t intentional on Burnham’s part.

“I know this isn’t what you expected, neither did I.” Georgiou started, fixing a stern but delicate tone as she talked to Michael. “The engineering crew says it’ll take about three days to clear out the lightening bugs so you’ll be on this ship for the next three days. I’ve considered the options in your placement here.”

A light indent formed between Burnham’s eyebrows, her gaze rising up though a hint of confusion lingered in those brown depths. “Placement?”

Georgiou nodded. “I could put you in the brig, but given your….traveling companions attitude towards you, I don’t see that working out well. So, I’ve decided to assign you to quarters and to engineering.”

She knew Stamets and she knew Michael. While there would be a personality clash, they both had strong work ethics. It was logical. Even if it was bordering double standards of her option of work ethics with using prisoners. Better her here than the alternatives.

“Now, I know you might argue—” She jumped in as Burnham opened her mouth “—but right now, it’s the best option. I know your skills and I know I need people who had them. I can’t afford the paper work that comes with prisoners killing each other and all precautions will be made.”

Burnham’s jaw shut tightly but after a moment, she nodded. “Yes, Captain Georgiou.”

“You’ll be sharing quarters with a cadet and escorted to and from engineering. When you’re not working you’re confined to quarters. Your meals will be sent to you. Commander Landry will take you there now. You’re dismissed.” Her tone remained absolute

Burnham was quick to jump to her feet, surprising her a fraction as the finesse she had. It was like someone had attached a live wire to her chair. Georgiou held her lingering stare before Burnham turned and scurried away.

As soon as the door closed, a shallow breath hissed passed her lips. The threat of emotions hanging around her neck like a noose but Philippa held them back. She could deal with them later.

_Just not now._

* * *

“With respect, Captain, do you really think this is a good idea?” Saru spoke softly, drawing her attention up from the report sent to them but Georgiou didn’t raise her eyes. “Burnham is a federation prisoner. I do believe it’s one thing to have her working on this ship and another to send her off on an away mission.”

“Well, given she’s not like Cold, Stone and Psycho in our brig, I do believe she’s capable of being part of the team.” She remarked drily. “She’s not a heartless murderer, Saru. I can trust her enough to be put on the team. Landry will keep an eye on her. I’m positive her work will be invaluable. She was, after all, my first officer. I don’t need to remind you of that.”

Saru’s clicked his tongue and his fingers fidgeting with his PADD with obvious traits of discomfort and there was no argument. Fortunately. Right now, getting an earful of Saru’s discomforts was the last of her needs.

Even if understanding his concern was easy to see. Especially given the high-classification of this mission but she was confident, even if her trust in Burnham was smaller than it ever had been but if she performed well…. It clarified her need to know on extending her stay.

“I’m…just _concerned_ , Captain.” Saru sighed. “She was your first officer, as you said. You had a very close relationship. I remember it well.”

Georgiou’s lips curled a fraction but couldn’t deny he wasn’t wrong. They were very close. They hadn’t progressed anything passed it, even if she was well aware the younger woman was attracted to her. Neither of them willing to push the boundary between captain and first officer.

Signs were clear but Georgiou had ignored and supressed it for a very good few reasons. The age gap, their positions in rank and… Michael didn’t have the emotional development that would be necessary for a relationship. The younger woman probably felt the attraction but didn’t want to pursue for most of her own reasons. Georgiou knew Michael wasn’t the sort for a brief relationship but there had been a lot that she needed to learn first before she have allowed her mind to look down that alley.

Now, there was no alley to look down. It was foolish of her to have considered it, not necessarily because of Michael’s actions _that_ day; but the injury was a reminder that she was barely fit to be captain, her body not nearly so young enough to recover as quick. Now, she had to lock everything like that away. In a water sealed box and now she had done.

She had kept her distance and kept to mission.

Though she understood the Kelpien’s concern…. Attachments and emotions could be messy. Especially now as her position as ship captain and Michael’s status in the federation. “I’m not going to try and keep to old memoires of her, Saru. Our history is irrelevant to the current situation. I know you’re reminding me of the potential shit-storm if I forget.”

Saru’s face softened, giving her a soft look at her phrasing but she smiled softly at him and rose to her feet.

“I know what I’m doing, Commander. As Long as Burnham does her work well, I fail to see why she can’t be of use.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

* * *

Georgiou’s lips curled as she read through Landry’s latest mission report from the _Glenn_. Undeniable not able to squash feeling of a little bit of pride that Michael had helped _quite_ significantly. A little concerned too given the woman had used herself as bait so carelessly for the others to make their escape…

She hadn’t considered the threat of a suicidal urge the woman _might_ have. She made a note; maybe the ship needed a councillor –she had already seen the growing use of birth control drugs in the ship’s medical stock usage-inventory so better _that_ then everyone fucking their way through this war.

“Captain, the other prisoners are being escorted back to the shuttle. It’s ready to depart in the hour.” Landry spoke up after a moment from her chair. “I’ll escort Burnham to it myself once I’m dismissed.”

“No, bring her here.” Philippa lowered the PADD, “I’ve decided to grant her temporary assignment to the ship—”

“Captain!” Landry blinked, her voice decorated with a look of surprise though quickly regained her composure and straightened her back. “Captain. She’s a prisoner due to go to Tellun. They’re expected four prisoners, not _three_.”

A heavy exhale passed her lips, giving the head of security a steely look. “Make the appropriate security arrangements if you want but… given what I’ve seen she’d not caused an issue and from what the reports are saying is… she performed exemplary work, both in engineering and on the away mission. I hardly see the point of wasting that skills with bashing rocks for the entirety of the war.”

Landry looked like she swallowed a sour apple, her chest puffing out and her cheeks flushed with colour. “Captain—”

“I said she’s staying.” Georgiou spoke sternly, “Bring her here and start the necessary preparations. She’ll stay with Cadet Tilly and Ill assign her work tomorrow after she’s settled. You’re dismissed.”

The officer’s face stayed flushed, though left quickly.

* * *

In the silence that followed, Georgiou picked up her PADD, sending the notification to the pilot in the hanger to pass on then one through Starfleet command. Burnham wouldn’t be likely to be quick to say yes, but she knew she could persuade her. She did have a large well to draw from… even if it could be a dirty card to pull. Philippa could almost feel the annoyance from Cornwell… but at times of war, she did have the authority to conscript anyone into the fold. That included prisoners such as Michael.

She’d allow Landry to do her part of course, she couldn’t be a good chief of security if she didn’t implement the appropriate precautions.

_Ding_

“Enter.”

Looking at the woman now, there was a definite change in her posture as she walked. Sublet enough that most would ignore but Philippa couldn’t help but even note that Michael’s face had regained a new flush of colour, even if her expression became professionally composed.

“Captain.”

Georgiou rose to her feet, offering a short smile but retained her professional stance. “I’ve read the reports Commander Landry and Stamets have done on your performance along with working with this crew.” She started, holding up the PADD, “I… didn’t have my doubts about your working capabilities so I’ve decided to offer an official invitation to our science division on this ship to you.”

Burnham’s mask slipped, her eyes widened, her jaw slacking and her head tilted before it was washed away a moment later with a frown. “Captain?” She swallowed thickly. “I’ve been court martialled and convicted—“

“I know.” Georgiou interrupted softly, shaking her head. “I can deal them. There are protocols in place that can allow me to have you here.”

The mutineer stared silently and still as a statue before she broke out with a sharp nod of her head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Georgiou narrowed her eyes, “You can do a lot more here than you can in a _mine_ , Michael.”

“I have to pay for my crimes, Captain” Burnham spoke truthfully, her gaze low as her arms folded over her chest “I can’t just…escape that.”

“You won’t you’re still serving your sentence but doing something more productive than smashing two rocks together.” Georgiou remarked back, moving smoothly around the desk before she leant back, closing her eyes a moment as the familiar tugging ache ran through her chest at the angle of her sitting position, her breath pausing before it was gone… allowing her a long second to breath it out.

“Are you alright, Phi— _Captain_.”

Georgiou nodded, opening her eyes that settled back to the concerned woman. “You’re not…unredeemable, Michael.” She masked the discomfort. “I want you here. I know you still feel guilty on the whole thing…. On me, on the war… but how can you try and earn my trust when you won’t give yourself a chance.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You _disappoint_ me with that attitude.” Her tone clipping, “I expected more from you. I expected you would _want_ a way to earn yourself some new self-respect and to try and redeem yourself in my eyes. You won’t _ever_ get that from me again if you go back to your cell.” Her gaze bore into Burnham’s angrily. She knew it was harsh. How it sounded but Michael needed to hear it. Get her head out of the wrong impression she was warping herself into. “I wouldn’t offer this opportunity for you for nothing, not for _anyone_.”

Michael blinked rapidly, blinking away the hints of tears that had settled there though held her composed expression. She couldn’t deny she wasn’t impressed at the control she had but she could damn Sarek for teaching the woman such restraint over those emotions…

“So, Michael Burnham. Are you going to help me or slink away?”

Burnham’s breath rasped quietly, looking though on the verge of her mask to crack though her eyes remained wider than usual, almost tongue tied. Her jaw shook and a deep breath was finally taken. “I’ll help.”

Georgiou gave a single short nod, but relief surged through her veins silently. Releasing the tensions within her heart. “Good. You’ll stay assigned to your previous quarters. Landry will handle the security measures if necessary. I’ll get your new assignment ready tomorrow.”

Michael nodded quickly. “Can—“ She stopped herself shaking her head. “Can I ask…. What’s going on on this ship?”

A snort chuckle left her lips. “Well, it didn’t escape me your curiosity would get the better of you.” No, she knew Michael well enough. Plus, Burnham had done exactly what she had predicted in breaking into the mycelium crop bay. Also showed her a flaw in their security… she hadn’t lost her creativity in getting around that.

“I know you know about the spores. By logical assumption, you would have assumed we’re developing some type of weapon, right?” Georgiou moved up from her desk, raising her eyebrow.

Michael’s head bobbed slowly.

Philipps scoffed lightly. “Well, no. That’s not what we’re developing. Our ship is unique and was built on specifications of a _propulsion drive_. We don’t need weapons. We need to get from A to B quicker….we need ways to get past the cloaking technology the Klingons have if they start to spread it around.”

She remembered that so clearly; they had had no idea how far they were from that Klingon ship until it uncloaked. Not on sensors, not even to their own eyes. While it hadn’t been seen for the past 6 months, there was a strong chance its technology was capable of being shared. They were just a little bit fortunate at the moment the others couldn’t. It was why their side was even with their enemy.

“The spores?”

Georgiou nodded. “We’re working on the work of a…organic subnetwork of mycelium. We can use the spores to…pull the ship along the network and to materialise wherever we need to be. We’re still… doing small jumps and trying to perfect long ones but we’re close.” She couldn’t deny that Stamets wasn’t thrilled with their progression over Straals. But she knew Lorca had pushed his crew before their deaths but it save them the necessary equipment and data needed to perfect their own.

The captain moved, smiling softly now. “Go and collect your things from the shuttle then go back to your quarters. I’ll send you the debrief with Tilly then come to the bridge tomorrow. You’ll be on Alpha shift.”

Swallowing again, Michael nodded. “Of course, captain Georgiou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This I felt was a necessary step and in the first POV of Georgiou so we get to see her perspective on their relationship first and well... we all know what happened on Ep 3 anyway, so we didn't need to go through all of that again--plus i didn't want to write up that ep with a few tweaks due to Georgiou's survival. 
> 
> This was also setting the grounding for the next chaps so please bare with :) The more interesting ones are gonna come next and I should expect some sort of time-jump in the next bit to their away mission.
> 
> as usual, drop some kudos and some comments :) I love to hear them anyway


	3. Readying to Go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm not gonna beat around the plot too much. There is a time jump but it's not strictly following Canon's time frame. TBH, the war isn't gonna play a huge role like it does in canon nor my other stories.

Michael kept her eyes ahead, walking with a sense of urgency and annoyance at herself. She was late. One thing she had left was some dignity and that was currently holding in her work habits. Now she was _late_. It didn’t matter if it was six minutes passed her usual shift time, she was late nonetheless.

“Excuse me,” She weaved herself around a few Ensigns before she slipped into Engineering.

Almost immediately though, she knew she was the centre of attention by the dark look Stamets gave her. “Ah, “I was starting to wonder whether you were going to join us today, Burnham.” He remarked dryly, catching the attention of the few people still working, their eyes boring into her face. “I don’t know how things are on Vulcan,” he carried on, “but here, oh eight hundred means oh eight hundred.” 

Michael flushed though headed towards her monitor to carry on her previous work. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

Despite her attention to her station, Michael could still feel the prickling looks, pulling the data chip from her pocket and plugged it into the station. One by one, the looks vanished though it didn’t escape her to feel the concerned look Tilly was giving beside her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Michael gave the cadet a smile, false as it was, she didn’t want to talk about it.

Suddenly being back on the ship…. Being back with Philippa Georgiou, it had stirred up the worst of her memories that seemed to take the opportunity to instil fear into her dreams… Reliving the Ship of the dead but being _too late_ to save Georgiou had been the more recent one. The feeling of being pulled away by the transport before she could reach her; to being _alone_ on the pads…

Reality was kinder.

She knew she had been fast enough, the blade hadn’t gone too deep… she had gotten Georgiou out… but it felt like karma to revel in the very close possibility. The thought of that was haunting. Enough to keep her awake and enough to make her oversleep in the moments between dreams and nightmares. She hadn’t let it affect her schedule. Until today.

Michael could feel the lingering look but Tilly seemed to have gotten the message and got back to her work.

* * *

She made up for the lost minutes through her lunch break, settling without it as she continued to work at her station. Michela knew she couldn’t make it up at the end, given the current restrictions Landry had her under at the moment included a curfew so she wouldn’t be able to get dinner and make up for time at the same point in the day. Though her stomach was not as pleased, not always eating was far too familiar so she ignored it.

Michael was halfway through the end part of her shift when the computer’s voice spoke up.

“Burnham to the science lab.”

Her head rose as the voice rang though the comms, her eyes flickering to Stamets for a second though he didn’t look like he cared.

“Acknowledged.” She saved her monitor and pulled her Data chip out of the slot and left.

Though her stomach tightened up significantly as she saw both Saru and Georgiou waiting for her, both seemed to turn as look at her at the same time.

Her steps slowed though she eyes Saru for a further second before fixing her gaze onto Georgiou’s face. A wash of guilt making its appearance by wrapping around her gut to see how the captain was hunched forwards, breathing much more noticeably heavier than before; tired bags seem to show more under her eyes too.

“Captain, Commander.” Michael started with, breaking the tension she felt was growing though stood with her arms behind her back to a formal position.

Georgiou moved first with full captaincy authority despite her hindrance. “Burnham. We’re on our way to a planet in the Nuvettian system. I need you to do over the system report and determine possible landing sites, threats and geological activity.”

Michael’s head tilted a fraction. “Nuvettian? I’ve never heard of that system before, Captain.”

“It’s recently been discovered by the USS Utopia but it’s placement is close to the front lines so they weren’t able to get more than what was retrieved in their ship’s black box and probes.” Georgiou spoke, her fingers tapping at the station she stood by, “Once we’re there, we should have a good few hours before we have to disappear. Klingon ships are in the area but fortunately, they don’t consider this planet of any interest or threat.”

That did flare up a spark on interest. Threat or not, a planet that the federation was looking into was going to catch the Klingon’s attention, sooner or later. Usually it’d end up in them blowing the planet up or scourging its atmosphere to stop anyone from gaining anything from it. Michael’s eyes flickered from the captain to the screen behind her.

“How long ago were these readings?” She asked, moving forwards.

“4 months. We’ve set up communication probes in the area to act as early warning bells. Klingons have been targeting those to limit Starfleet’s communications over the last week so I believe that’d give us adequate timing to get away and limit our warp signature by the time they get there.”

Michael nodded again but that wasn’t much of her concern. Her eyes flicking over the planet that spun in its hologram orbit.

It was almost earth like in appearance by blue oceans and green plants except that it’s continent was huge that stretched from pole to pole in a manner that reminded her of Pangea, only with islands dotted about in its oceans. Most of the land surface was green with whitening tips of snow and high raised mountains in several areas of it, easily around the equator.

Michael tore her gaze away, returning them back to Georgiou. “I can start straight away, Capatain. I assume we’re a few hours away.”

Georgiou’s lip curled a fraction, unsurprised at her guess. “Given this planet is… more classified, I’ve chosen Commander Saru volunteered to oversee your work.”

Michael nodded though felt the burning sense of ‘ _supervisor’, ‘Monitor’_ or ‘ _baby sitting’_ was the more accurate word. It showed the clear distrust the captain had with her. Useful for her mind and research only. If the captain didn’t trust her with research, it said enough on what the captain thought of her.

“Yes, Captain.” Her voice thankfully not betraying the mixture of feelings. What was she supposed to feel? Hurt? Upset? Disappointed? Maybe a mixture of the three but Michael didn’t know. All unfamiliar to her now but she felt it all profoundly all the same.

Georgiou nodded, glancing to Saru behind her but Michael moved her attention to the screen again to distract herself; to ground her feelings away into work. Work made the feelings go away for a little bit longer.

She vaguely hear the captain leave though she didn’t hesitate to open up the research file. Starting first on the orbital scans though Saru moved to a separate station for his own assessments. She tried not to think about that.

Instead, she turned her mind into what she was seeing.

The planet was in good condition to house life. Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, temperature wise by being closer to the sun in its habitual zone; there was plenty to suggest it’d run warm like Vulcan but unlike Vulcan, this planet was covered in lush forests. Hot and humid but life would thrive nonetheless. Perhaps something she’d see in the Amazon rain forests. Predator, prey and everything in between.

Geologically, that though quickly became a new concern. Like earth, it had tectonic plates but it’s raised mountains along the equator were more explainable now.

“There’s a lot of tectonic activity along the continent.” She noted out loud, “Earth quakes are often. This large continent must be on the verge of breaking apart at some point in the near feature. Fissures will start to break up through the surface.” In a couple of hundred thousand years, this place could easily take up the rest of the planet. “We’d have to make sure the landing party isn’t near the tectonic plates to ensure their safety.”

“Indeed.” Saru didn’t speak again though merely acknowledging her statement.

Michael pursed her lips but said nothing.

* * *

As she had predicted, she was right to have assume fissures would have started to break through the surface. A particular section of the planet showed deep rivers and sunken land. One section looked to have been stripped down on closer inspection, no doubt by Tsunamis that stuck that section of the land.

Though Michael’s interest was caught as she found herself looking at a clear indication of stone, ornamental structure. Readings she had weren’t conclusive for specifics but she couldn’t deny that something once lived down on that planet; just not any more.

Energy readings of the planet was high though she couldn’t find the reason to the why behind it without more in-depth analysis of it. More than what the ship had. Michael could only assume this was what they had time to download before the ship’s destruction.

“Under the surface, there’s a lot of cave systems. Fissures in the ground open them up so it’s to my assumption that flood water expels the excess water down into there and back into the ocean. An interesting way to deal with potentially ecologically disasters. ” Saru spoke up next, making Michael blink; almost flinching, having not heard his approach. Nor the fact he was looking over her shoulder.

Michael stepped away, giving him the immediate space.

“It was also once inhabited, Commander.” She zoomed into the structures

“I know.” Commander Saru nodded. “It was always suspected by many factors.”

Michael frowned lightly, unable to help but tilt her head. “Was I needed at all here, commander?”

Saru looked up though his silence lingered for a moment longer before he nodded. “Captain Georgiou saw it fit to assign you here.”

But he didn’t seem to share that agreement, what the basic of translations. She knew him… he was capable of doing his himself but Georgiou wanted _her_. Was that to make her useful or for a test? Neither of those sounded flattering. Michael swallowed and sighed out. “Well, I believe the research is…all that we can sort through. I can run more planetary scans and assessments once we drop out of warp.”

“You’ll have to ask Captain Georgiou about that.”

Michael looked to him again but forced herself to nod. “Okay.”

It didn’t make a lot of sense, assign her for these tests only to move her onto something else as soon as they get there. Maybe it _was_ a test. “I can go over the geological features and determine the best landing site.” She moved back to the monitor, swallowing tightly. “Is there a particular reason for landing or should I determine a randomised point on the planet?”

“None that I am allowed to disclose. But close to the ruins would suffice.”

* * *

She did find a spot that was most promising. Though it was near a tectonic line, it was far from the sea to be threatened by water or risks of unstable rock for a save in. There was an opening in the tree lines but she chose the beam-down site about a mile away. The energy readings were highest there but she didn’t want to risk scrambling the crew if the patterns were disorganised by this alien energy.

Saru was more than happy to take the findings to Georgiou himself so this allowed her to go to the mess for her dinner now she was dismissed. She tried not to feel uncertain, or upset. Though her stirring hunger from missing lunch wasn’t roaring as loud as she anticipated as she pushed around the food on her plate with her fork.

None of it looked overly appetising, at best, Michael nibbled… until she felt a certain presence descend on her table.

“You look like crap. You in trouble?” Tilly asked, concern leaking into her voice as she set her tray down in front of her, slipping into the opposite seat. She lent forwards, her voice hushing as she spoke. “Was it about this morning?”

Michael sighed deeply and shook her head. “No.”

Tilly continued to eye her for a moment, her lips pursed tightly and the blue hue seemed to be like an ocean of emotions. Concern, uncertaintly and hesitation. “I know you’re not sleeping well…If you want, I can talk to Dr Culber—“

Michael shook her head, “It’s fine, Tilly.” Though she was touched by the cadet’s concern. It did feel somewhat nice to…have the emotional support of someone without a bias against her due to her actions. “Just…”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s not if it’s bothering you.” Tilly pointed out, “I can keep what I say between us, if you want. I mean, we’re basically friends now. We’ve lived in the same room for two weeks and eat our meals together…”

Michael sighed. “It’s….personal.”

“Do you know _who_ you’re talking to, Michael?” Tilly pressed, chuckling softly to lighten the moon. “I’m the best person to talk to. I am an open book. I talk, I know things and I want to help…plus I’m still getting to know people too...right now you’re my only friend.”

Michael held back a bitter remark that most of that reasoning would be on the fact she was currently befriending _her_ was what was holding her back to the potential of other companions. Was she too robbing Tilly of that?

“Is it about Georgiou? I heard that…she was the captain of the Shenzhou over you.”

Michael didn’t give any dignified response other than dropping her fork.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.”

She gave the cadet a soft look. “I had a close relationship with her. I mutinied against her. Now I’m on her ship as a federation prisoner.”

“Ah… so you feel like… she doesn’t trust you?”

“There are plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t… the restrictions Landry has me under suggests as much. Even my exposure to work is limited. Saru had to babysit my analysis.”

“Restrictions?”

Michael nodded, lifting up the sleeve to the security watch Landry fixed on the day she had joined this crew. “Monitors everything. Bio, location, stations or other electrics I may handle.” _Felt great_. Everything probably went to Georgiou anyway. She’d know what she was doing and where at _any_ given time.

Tilly eyed it for a long moment. “Anything else?”

“Curfew.”

“ _What_? You’re not nine.” Tilly scoffed, shaking her head. “I really think that’s excessive.”

“Clearly not to the captain. Everything would have had to been authorised by her.” She knew it well. But she had to give Georgiou credit to where it was due, it was all very well thought out. Paranoia maybe. “I just…hoped I suppose…”

“She’ll trust you again, Michael.” Tilly reached forwards, grasping a warm hand to hers. “just….hang in there.”

“She got stabbed in the chest because of me, Tilly. The damage… it’s not fully healed. It’s just a reminder for the both of us what we did. What I did. Everything now is like a test….no doubt seeing if I’m up for being her reclamation project.” She shoved her plate away grumpily. “She gave up on me.”

Tilly stared at her deeply though a wistful expression shone on her face. “If you’re here, Michael, it doesn’t sound like she has.”

“Am I interrupting?” A new voice drew her attention to see Commander Landry striding towards the table, dressed up in a tactical vest, a second over her arm and a phaser in her holster.

Tilly straightened up, her hand darting back to her fork. “Er… no, Commander, is there something you needed?”

Landry eyed Tilly for a second before her attention turned to Michael who raised her eyebrow as to inquire her interruption. “Captain wants you on the away team, Burnham.”

Michael’s head tilted, unable to help the frown on her face at the statement. She was barely allowed the research, now she was suddenly going on the trip? What was Georgiou doing?

“When are we going?”

“As soon as you put your vest on and follow me.” Landry thrust the tactical jacket into her arms with a look then nodded her away.

Michael stared after her for a long moment then sighed, standing up. She couldn’t go against the Captain’s orders… not again. “I’ll talk to you later, Tilly.”

Tilly nodded. “Be safe.”

Michael scoffed as she slipped the jacket on. “It’s a trip to an inhabited planet….hardly going to kill me now, is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe well who doesn't love a bit of foreshadowing? I do. hehee. Plus why not lol. 
> 
> now, i'm gonna try and work on my other fics before i post another chapter here (or i might be lying and do which ever muse strikes my inspiration)
> 
> As usual, drop some love and some comments. I still love to hear your thoughts, love and speculations :)


	4. The Ruins

Michael blinked as the planet swam into view as the gold faded, letting out a soft breath though she was met with the hot humid air that seeped into her lungs. Having grown up on Vulcan, Michael was more used to this heat; it was almost familiar except less Suns and sand.

All around, there was a lush jungle like scenery. Where they were was a vast green field like opening with long grass flowers. She felt some caution to hear bugs of sorts around them but not able to see. She wasn’t fully certain on the wild-life but she’d rather not run into anything unwelcoming.

“We’re a few hours from night on this planet.” Spoke Landry who looked at her tricorder. “The temperature drops significantly after dark so that should be good timing for us to leave by…as long as we’re not chanced out by Klingons.”

“Agreed.” Georgiou spoke, “Burnham, you’re with me. Commander Landry, you take Commander Nilsson and take the secondary route to the location. I’ll take the Primary.”

It didn’t miss her to see the look of apprehension that crossed over Landry’s face. Michael looked away turning her attention in bending down to the bag that had been transported down than allow her mind to linger on that.

It was their basic equipment and an emergency survival kit— the likely chance of staying had sounded high given the chance of Klingons so Michael was glad for the foresight of preparation though she didn’t know what Nilsson’s kit was. She doubted she would get an answer if she asked. This mission was already feeling familiar.

Checking to make sure she had her Communicator and Tricorder, Michael picked up the bag and swung it onto her back though she immediately grabbed the smaller bag by Georgiou’s feet as the captain reviewed their path. She watched as the other two took their bags and headed away, PADD in hand.

“What are we looking for, Captain?” Michael asked, her eyes lingering on Nilsson’s backpack.

The handle of the bag she was holding was pulled away from her fingers also drew her attention back to Georgiou, who suddenly started a brisk pace straight ahead, nearly the opposite the way the other two went.

“This way, Michael.”

The casual use of her first name felt odd to the secretive nature and subtle avoidance of answering the question. But, it held only the _ounce_ of familiarity that…she liked. Only this time, they weren’t trying to leave nor in a desert.

Michael caught up easily to the captain, her eyes ahead as the green field continued on for a bit though they were heading towards a thick treeline. It wasn’t as…sun-blazed as she expected, but the humidity seemed it have made up for that. She could feel the few beads of sweat over her flesh and it made the air press over her skin like a blanket-hug. She doubted shade would make such a difference

Though Michael pondered, she couldn’t see what use this planet could be for them. Aside from the fact it had alien ruins, there was little to suggest anything was remotely helpful for the cause.

It was just a planet that belonged to an extinct species and left forgotten. Even if it had the same star type and the planet size was close to the Sol Star and Earth, of course most matter would have its slight variance but function and purposes were the same. Soil, rock and water were life’s building blocks.

Michael frowned gently as she mulled though she knew she had gone….off her original train of thought. From her mission to planetary assessments. It felt almost typical of her now. What else?

* * *

Her steps crunched as her boots squashed dead leaves, weaving through the trees that got much closer together. The silence between them was palpable but Michael didn’t press for conversation. What could she start with? Georgiou hadn’t told her why she was here in the first place.

A low rumbling through the ground stopped them. The trees shook though Michael looked up, just in time to avoid a large branch though she hissed softly as she felt something piece through the back of her pant leg and dig sharply into her flesh but she stayed still, frozen—a part of her glad to see Georgiou too had taken cover.

Low _thungs_ echoed, branches swishing down through the air until they met the undergrowth. The trembled didn’t last too long before they subsided. Michael remained where she was for along second before she moved. There was no immediate after shock so she took that as a good sign.

“We should keep moving.” Michael sighed, turning her attention back to the Captain. She pulled the tricorder from its place, scanning the near tree. “Earth quakes are fairly common in this vicinity but can vary on the Richter-scale. Given the structure of the trees; deep roots, solid bases, they’ve grown with withstand them.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. If it’s rocked by quakes often… they have to.” Georgiou chuckled softly though her eyes drifted down, a look of concern crossing her features swiftly “You okay?”

Michael followed her gaze to her leg. There, sticking though her pant-leg was what looked to be black and blue quills that resembled porcupine needles. Behind, where her leg had been was a small urchin like plant, dark quills sticking out over like a hedgehog though.

“It’s nothing, Wardrobe level at most.” She pulled them out, allowing them to drop to the floor.

Philippa moved forwards sharply, unconvinced as she bent down sharply, pulling up the back of her pant leg then tittered softly. “It’s punctured the skin. Can you feel this? Any pain?”

Looking down Michael saw a small stream of blood from at least one of the quills but she felt nothing of Philippa’s fingers nor the skin around the immediate puncture, everything after she could feel the soft sensations of her finger tops... Her eyes flickered to the quill in the captain’s hand; the ends of them weren’t covered in a substance, except the one that had the tip with her blood. “Yes and no.”

Georgiou looked up to her sharply, her lips pursing though the depth of concern ever laced the lines that traced her eyes deepened. “Let’s get you back and have Dr Culber take a look at this?”

“We don’t have a lot of time here, captain. We can send up the quills for Culber to run his tests to see what type of toxin it is before I’m pulled away if it’s life threatening. I have the main kit, it should include a medical kit we can use.” Michael knew the risk, and how stupid is was to lie about it but this was likely her _only_ away mission. An injury would only guarantee her ticket away. So would lying about it but… well either way, she wouldn’t be allowed down again.

Georgiou’s lips pursed but Michael held her look, pulling her injured limb from her fingers though offered the captain a hand up. Something that she took.

“If you start to feel anything, sick, tingling, _anything_ unusual. Tell me.”

“Of course.” None of those she felt but there was nothing that she felt…concerning. She could still feel her foot. No pain.

Georgiou didn’t look so convinced before she moved behind her. She heard the zip before the small sensation of Georgiou routing around before she felt the load lighten. Her head turned to see the captain pull a small plastic container— a sample’s kit, and slot all the quills into it.

Michael turned her attention away, shrugging off her bag to pull out the med kit, simply grabbing a Band-Aid that it had —while old school, it was standard that should there be adhesive coverings in the event of the dermal regenerator stopped working— and stick it over the open wound and pulled down her pant leg. The blood would dry off but this place was hardly the cleanest place to rub it off; she could accidently rub something _in_.

“Time to go on, I believe, Captain.” She prompted, zipping the kit back together she put it on again.

Georgiou nodded, retrieving her PADD now her hands were free and started her lead again deeper. She stole a glace to the PADD but the screen simply showed their immediate location and a red line that disappeared off screen; no doubt to their destination.

They began walking again and she could feel the few looks the captain gave her— or more to her leg than anything else. It was a prickling feeling that she didn’t like but she didn’t let it get to her, nor the injury to hinder her. She was on mission.

* * *

“You know, Michael. I expected you to talk more.” Georgiou commented after a while of walking. “Telling me all about the planet you studied for this mission, potential hazards.”

Michael shrugged. “I’m sure Commander Saru gave you the necessary preparation from the research I conducted prior to our arrival. It’d be redundant of me to…inform you of everything you already know of this planet.” She held out her bitterness from leaking into her voice as she spoke. She wasn’t angry at Saru, nor Georgiou but… she couldn’t help but feel the negatives that came with their resentments. _Wanting_ and _being_ resentful or bitter were different. She had no right for it. Yet… it leaked.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy a conversation with you.”

They came towards a steeper inclination though Michael frowned softly as she noticed…the edges off to the initial start were...sharp stone. Including up in a very specific fashion. Michael lent forwards, brushing her fingers over the overgrown and soil, dusting them away until smooth stone edge was revealed. Her fingers dug into the soil, pulling clumps away though she followed how easily it moved, exposing not just undergrowth but a smooth stone step.

“Are we at the ruins we found on the optical scans, Captain?”

Georgiou frowned, pulling her PADD closer to her face, swiping over it. “Not initially. Landry and Nilsson were supposed to be at the ruins.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully before she pulled out her Communicator. “Commander Landry, are you at your designated location?”

It took a moment before a voice replied.

 _“Err. Yes, Captain. Xeno-ruins, over grown, clearly been left for a long time.”_ Nilsson spoke _, “Landry went inside a… temple of sorts.”_

“Alright, just keep your eyes out. We’re also at a set of ruins. Much more buried than yours. Once you’re done there, transport back to the ship or meet us at the prime location. Georgiou out.” The captain snapped the communicator shut then slipped it into her belt with a heavy sigh. “We’re getting close, if this is any indication.” With new vigour, Georgiou picked up her pace and started up the slope though her breath was immediately louder with each step up. Hiding the pain.

“I suppose. The planet does have an unusual energy readings. Enough to perhaps distort out from our scanners from picking up on this location.”

Perhaps that was why there were here? To find out what was unusual about this planet that could mask it’s ruins. The energy fields surrounding the ruins that she had found were significantly lower than their current position. Were they looking to cloak discovery or break the possible of the Klingon’s cloak ability— she had overheard the rumour of the Klingons houses were starting to use the same technology from the idle conversation from Landry.

Michael followed though she felt the soil squish in a fashion that almost made her foot slip with how the soil moved, so she adjusted; digging her shoes into the dirt to keep her footing. One step after another slowly brought her up to the flatter surface at the top. Her eyes were met with a vastly different and beautiful sight.

It was like looking into a Cambodian, stone courtyard and large temple like structure that was being engulf in nature. The ruins were…oddly intact. Strong, smooth, pillars stood erect, holding up the ornamentally carved slabs of rock, supporting the moss covered, tiled roof that stretched down quite a way; a tree stood overgrowing over the top, it’s roots twisting down over its tilted surface, growing down through the broken cracks of it and weaved around the open window frame and down into the courtyard, continuing on over the soil that coated almost all the surface; edges of the stone exposed by the tilted nature of uneven levelling and erosion.

Light of the sun, much lower than before now, still filtered onto it through the trees and glistened off the puddles of water that gathered in the dips and carvings. There was a low smell that hung around, not fresh given the humid air but it smelled old, like rotting wood, dead plants and the hints of moist mud. Bugs and bat-like birds (if she saw the swoop correctly) seemed to have made this their home.

It was…breathe-taking to see. And so _intact_. Michael could see a few buildings in the immediate area, separate but connected by the large courtyard. Directly down, there was an archway gap between two of the houses that led to what Michela could guess was to the rest of the small village.

She pulled out her tricorder, scanning through the ruins.

“This place has been alone for… 200 years, Give or take a decade. I’m amazed this has stayed so strong for so long.” She mused, chuckling. “The carving seemed to have a….pattern to them. Possibly scriptures. Languishing would need to study them to know what they mean.” But by all indications, there was intelligence…. A community that lived here. Humanoid perhaps.

“Do you think an epidemic wiped out the population?”

“It can be possible. But there’s no indication of…bones or anything that could have been left. An epidemic would sometimes leave bodies in mass or a mass grave. But a ruin this old, bones don’t last this long so exposed. If a body was well sheltered and taken care of, it could have mummified or bones could have mineralized. It’s just…empty.”

There was nothing. There was doubt that could stay and find out; they were here for a reason and it wasn’t to uncover why there weren’t any bones or artefacts in relation. They weren’t archaeologists. The time wouldn’t allow it.

“Follow me. Michael.” Again, guided the PADD, Georgiou got back to task and headed towards the arch way.

“Where are we going? No one seems to answer that question.” Michael pressed, keeping her Tricorder out, scanning as she went. “I don’t see why I’m here if I’m not useful. Are my skills necessary for this particular away mission? I’m coming to the conclusion we’re here to collect something from this planet but…”

Georgiou sighed out as she walked. “Yes, we are but the specifics, I’m not allowed to disclose.”

Justifiably or not, Michael could feel the hot sensation of frustration return. Her question once again leading to nothing. It bugged her curiosity just as easily.

“Then you should have picked someone else, captain.” She couldn’t help the grumbled brushing passed the older woman. “Someone who can know and do their best with that knowledge. I’m not useful here when I know nothing.”

“Cornwell ordered your ignorance, Michael.”

Michael clenched her teeth together but didn’t answer. It seemed everyone liked her ignorance. To be in the dark like she wasn’t worthy to know her mission or job. She really was here for the captain’s vanity.

That left a sour taste on her tongue so she bit on it, saying nothing was the best option. Even with the welt of frustration.

“Michael.”

Exasperation laced the captain’s voice but Michael pressed on, keeping to a brisk pace ahead. The soil squelched under her boots though she barely paid too much attention to the ruins as she carried on. Passing through the arch and down towards another sector of a similar stone structure but led out towards the trees again.

“Michael. Stop.”

She did. Immediately but nothing more. Georgiou catching up after a moment, her breath heavily laboured though Michael shook off the hand that touched her arm. As childish as it was, she didn’t want that. Not from Georgiou and certainly not now.

“What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d enjoy this mission. Have some time away from the ship. Fresh air and an ancient civilisation….”

“Then I’m not actually here for this mission. Unless sightseeing _is_ the mission but no one is actually telling me what said mission is.” Michael snapped, unable to help it. But the question opened up the implication of freely-speaking “I thought I was here to help you.”

Georgiou have her a look, a look of frown— _almost_ annoyance— brushed her features. “You _are_.”

Michael resisted scoffing but she shook her head. “Then let’s get back to mission than discuss my feelings, Captain. We’re losing day light.”

Georgiou’s look deepened though she shook her head. “We will continue this conversation _later_ , Michael.”

Michael nodded. She didn’t expect less. Maybe she’d get a dressing down for talking to her like that.

* * *

Though she pushed her feelings away, the tensions seemed to somewhat linger but it only took them five more minutes and Georgiou’s lead to get to their apparent destination.

Much more isolated from the village and near to the starting edges of a cliff-side, there was a huge opening in the trees, spread like a circle around a vast space. In the centre of the space, there was a ten-foot radius, well-like opening by the ornamental stones that lay flush to the floor that didn’t quite blend into the soil and dirt around it. Stone and mossy pathways led away through the trees, one Michael found herself walking on. On one side of the open ground was a stone carves altar with detailed scriptures encrusted with dirt and that had plants growing around it.

Someone about it spoke almost… _sacrificial_.

“This is it.” Georgiou spoke, her tricorder out but a hint of confusion laced her features. “But…It can’t be?”

Michael walked towards the edge of the pit and looked down.

The smooth stone edge went down for about a few feet then turned into rough, white, cave like material but the drop was long. Directly at the bottom of the drop-zone was a slab of stone, encrusted with dark moss and the light glistened around that suggested water was present; perhaps a chamber down the tunnel drop. Tossing down a stone, Michael waited until she heard the quiet tinkering of stone. “90 feet….just about.” She called out. “Is what we’re looking for in this pit?”

Georgiou looked up from the PADD then exhaled. “We’ll have to check.”

Michael nodded, her eyes searching the bottom. It was dark… not too dark if she could still make out the bottom.

“Get away from there. I don’t want you to fall in.”

Michael complied, shrugging off her bag and dumped it down then unzipped it. Inside she found the usual equipment; scanners (not including the tricorder), sample equipment, the med kit, though she was surprised to see a compact mark 1 phaser at the bottom, above the emergency kit. It made her frown though left it in there, resting the remaining kit aside the altar side.

From the other bag, Georgiou pulled out a fusion anchor as well as the rope. Michael rose to her feet though it didn’t pass her to believe the captain wanted to go down.

“Captain. If I go down, I can get clearer scans of the area, see where that tech’s slipped off to or what sort of cave system is at the bottom.”

“I can go down. I’ve been itching for a chance to since I was cleared from medical.”

Her jaw tightened, despite her initial feelings of uselessness, this had to be her area. For many reasons and gut told her Philippa knew that too. Pride and cabin fever would be her downfall if she listened.. 

“Captain, I believe _I_ would be the best suited to go down, not only are you a vital personnel, your chest injury has weakened your core. Too much stress could do more harm and compromise your duty as a Starfleet captain.” Michael pointed out smoothly, “I may not be… the person necessary for the mission but out of the both on a logical and physical level for this, I am.”

Michael held the stare Georgiou gave her, watching the muscles tense before her brown eyes flickered passed her to the pit. She didn’t answer for a long while but then her expression caved. Both in understanding and frustration.

To a degree, Michael could see why. Georgiou wanted the ability to do what she had been able to do in the past; to try and regain _that_ strength. Morally. Medical must have felt like a prison just as much as her body had. An active mind hindered by physical limits. But this wasn’t one she could test right now. They both knew that.

“It…would be unwise to cause unnecessary strain.” She decided, letting out a frustrated huff before she fixed the rope onto the fusion Anchor.

A low sense of relief flooded in her lower stomach. “Thank you captain.” At least she could be _useful_. More so than before. Michael pulled the other bag closer, watching in the corner of her eyes as Georgiou fixed the anchor just before the stone edge though upon investigating into the other bag, Michael didn’t find anything other than a few ration packs in silver pouches and a few other redundant things and nothing she was _looking_ for. One thing that would make this abseil possible without the likely hood of death. “Was we supposed to have a harness?”

“What?”

“There’s no harness. I won’t be able to do down there safely without it.”

From her belt, the captain swiftly flipped open her communicator, “Landry or Nilsson, Can you check your bags. I think there’s a chance you’ve got our harness in one of your kits. We’ve gotten to our destination.”

The silence fell between them as they waited though only interrupted by the grumble chirps of what sounded like a bird. Michael

 _“Er…”_ The communicator relaying Landry’s voice after a minute _. “Yes, captain, we do. Must have been put into ours by mistake. We’re done here so we’ve already started to head to your location.”_

“ETA?”

_“Five minutes at a minimum”_

“See you in five minutes.”

A slow deflated feeling returned, turning into disappointment. Landry. If they were coming back, they’d no doubt do the whole abseil instead and leave her out of it….

Left out. Again.

It was a small thing… Landry probably _was_ more able. She had been more physically active in comparison… she shouldn’t be upset.

“I’ll collect a few scans while we wait.” Michael started, bending down again and reached for her tricorder…. then a low rumble started to shake the floor. 

“Another one?” but unlike before this was different. This was harder, it vibrated through the ground, rocking around. Michael could feel it run up her legs, throwing off her weight. She stumbled back until she felt her heel twist and something crack; her arms shot out to immediately balance herself…. But the momentum was pulling her back

“Michael!”

Michael only had a moment to see the surprised look that crossed over Philippa’s face before she felt another shake then the stomach lurching sensation as she felt the _drop_. By gut instinct, her hand went for the rope, just about curling around it… pain burning down her palms as she felt the rope slide in her hands but she didn’t allow her nerves to loosen her grip.

Then her gaze raised to see the anchor in the ground leaning far too her way… Her eyes widened as the rope shook…slowly descending down a few centimetres…. It wasn’t supporting her weight.

A sharp yelp escape her lips as she felt it give but stop just as suddenly.

Michael’s heart thundered in her chest. Panic coursing through her veins as she swung but her eyes shot up; widening as she saw Philippa grasping onto the end of the rope on one hand, the other on gripping onto the edge, trying to keep both her own form from following. The captain’s face contorted with a grimace and the strain was easy to see…

Her gut turned to ice though she kicked her legs out, feeling her boots hit against the stone wall to stabilise her weight…

Georgiou hissed out.

“Captain…” Michael swallowed thickly. She could run the calculations, she could see the physical toll... minutes were too long. Landry wouldn’t get here in time. There was only one logical course of action. It swirled the terror in her stomach. “Philippa, I have to let go.”

 _That_ caught her attention, brown eyes snapping open. “Are you _kidding_ me?!” Her voice winded but anger laced underneath, her jaw clenched. 

“Captain, you can’t support my weight along with yours on a single grip. You no longer have the upper body strength and none of us can reach our communicators.” Michael pointed out. A glance down had told that that hers had dropped in the initial fall…she was too far down under the captain to try and reach for hers.

Fear clawed at her insides like ice but… Michael could see sooner or later, one of Philippa’s hands was going to give under the strain. Better it be her, with _her_ rope than the one holding them _both_. This fall, she knew this fall was fatal. The stone slab at the end of this drop-entrance condemned any fallers. If it had all been water; there would have been a chance and the angle she was at… she wouldn’t have the time to swing herself to land legs first.

But as much as Michael could feel the fear, there was the facts that would offer her the relief of taking this fall. Philippa would live…. Her frustrations aside, this was the _right_ thing to do.

“I…don’t want…to lose you…Michael. Try….and find a grip.” Philipps grunted out, her breathing labouring tightly; sucking in air painfully.

Her fingers dug into the white rocky texture but it was surprisingly soft… her nails dug in but there was nothing she could do to hold a grip, the rock just crumbled. “I can’t…”

Michael could see clearly…. Philippa wasn’t going to let her go... it made her heart hurt to see her try… she could only imagine the aftermath but Michael wasn’t going to let her captain die. Not almost, not at all. Now… there was nothing to lose.

“Don’t let go!” Philippa glared down but there was fear in those eyes now….begging her to keep her grip. But she couldn’t.

“I’m a _mutineer_ … I…lost everything. Even you.” Michael started, trying to push her fears aside, “I’m not worth you.”

“Michael, please… just start listening to me. _Hold on_!”

Always the disappointment….perhaps this was what she wanted at the end of the day; to find an ouch of living or dying for something…. It had to be for Philippa. She could die for her…

“I’m sorry, Philippa.” She spoke, swallowing thickly though she held back the tears, taking a shallow breath before she loosened her grip sliding down what little length there was; heard the sharp painted intake of breath at the weight release then gravity did the rest.

“ _Michael_!”

Michael felt the drop last only for a few seconds, not able to break her stare up as she descended back… Philippa’s horrified face getting smaller and smaller…

Then she felt the solid surface under her and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe i thought to leave it on this cliff hanger for now bc why the hell not :) I'm super looking forwards for the next few chapters and everything and I hope you are too :) 
> 
> I was tempted to do a love confession here but... it felt too premature. Nether of them acknowledged their feelings before so suddenly announcing it could have been more awkward than a confession. Michael believed more negatively on what Philippa really thinks of her and Philippa hasn't tried to go down that path with her since the mutiny.
> 
> At lease now you know how she ended up in the pit lol
> 
> Please keep your eyes out for the next chap and as usual, comment and send your love XD


	5. Night falls

It had been the sharp motion of Michael’s body that had caught her attention; the second realisation that Michael had been much closer to the pit entrance than she had, that she realised why she moved so oddly; she was falling **back**.

Into the pit.

“Michael!” Horror seized into her belly but her body kicked into action; adrenaline shooting through her veins as Michael disappeared out of sight but the rope on the anchor pulled tightly but she barely had a moment to see as it moved….

Philippa drove forwards, her fingers just curling around the metal rod before it suddenly pulled, burning into her palm before the anchor stopped into the crook of her fingers. Almost immediately, Philippa could almost feel herself go with it but the sudden weight suddenly pulled around her chest, like someone was gripping tightly around her ribs and pinched directly into her stab wound. The pressure building up pain that seized her lungs.

She gasped out sharply. Her body slipping forwards but she swung her free hand out, clamping it into the stone brick edge; trying to force her weight into that arm; to keep herself up from sliding…. Her hands burned further with pain; the metal was digging into her fingers in a way that wanted her to let go for pure relied… but she couldn’t.

Philippa found herself staring down at Michael who was barely hanging onto the rope but she could feel the panic in her veins… the ache that called to her muscles to let go. But she fought them… she had to hold on. She couldn’t let Michael go. Not like this…. Not now. She could barely breathe…

“Captain…” Michael’s voice echoed up, her voice sounded very light and shallow. “I have to let go.”

Georgiou’s eyes opened, sucking in a shallow breath that burned straight into her right lung… but for a second, it was all numbed as she saw Michael…. Despite being near the end of the rope; she was clinging to it tightly, her boots maneuverer to press against the white rocky surface of the lower tunnel that seemed to make all the difference in not increasing her weight in odd motions.

But anger burned through next. “Are you _kidding_ me?!” Michael sounded so _casual_ to suggest suicide it was almost unbelievable…. It made her jaw clench tightly but her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She had so _hoped_ Michael hadn’t been suicidal….

“Captain, you can’t support my weight along with yours on a single grip. You no longer have the upper body strength and none of us can reach our communicators.”

Georgiou glared tightly. Unable to help but feel the fact that most of that was true. Every muscle in her body was burning, her lungs wanting more oxygen than she could take in, her fingers ached with the pull against them and it felt like she was being squashed into the ground the longer she held on. She couldn’t let go of the side; she’d fall _with_ Michael; she couldn’t let go of Michael without killing her…

She was stuck.

It terrified her. “I…don’t want…to lose you…Michael. Try….and find a grip.” She huffed out, squeezing the words passed her lips. To some relief, Michael did try, one hand letting go of the rope to the wall.

“I can’t.”

Damn it. Philippa groaned out quietly. “Don’t let go!” She couldn’t help but glare down; but even she could see what Michael was going to do.

“I’m a mutineer… I…lost everything. Even you. I’m not worth you.”

What _that_ implied, Philippa couldn’t unpack that all in the moments that passed. “Michael, please… just start listening to me. _Hold on_!”

“I’m sorry, Philippa.”

Philippa gasped out sharply as the weight on the rope disappeared; reliving the immediate strain. “ _Michael_!” but all she could do was just watch… seeing Michael’s prone form suddenly got smaller… then the sickening wet _thud_ that echoed; then there was nothing.

“Michael?!”

Her heard thudded in her chest, vaguely aware as the rope and anchor dropped from her fingers before a few seconds passed before she heard a clink as the anchor hit something solid then fell silent… no sounds; no groans of pain… no sounds echoed up. Only hers echoed down. The pit under was dark, but she could see down to make out the rough shape of Michael’s form; unmoving.

“Michael…” She closed her eyes, sucking in a heavy breath.

She didn’t know how long she lay at the edge of the pit… but she vaguely heard her communicator go off but she couldn’t yet focus enough to answer…or move. The latter mostly because every attempt brought a new flash of pain that raged through her chest, breathing hurt the longer she lay on her front and she still couldn’t move without making it worse…

“Captain!” The voice was startled and close but it was the motion of being grabbed by her shoulders and pulled right back that made her cry out, her hands shooting to her chest immediately

Pain radiated throughout her ribs, searing into her lungs…. It almost made a wave of nausea wash over her… her chest seizing for a second and the world spun… voices spoke but it took a second to realise she was on her back…. Deep blue of the sky above swarmed into her vision, then two faced appearing.

She sucked in shallowly but it brought a new burning sensation.

“Captain Georgiou.” Landry spoke. “We have to go, Discovery’s picking up Klingons closing in.”

“Michael…” Georgiou wheezed, her hand shooting out towards the pit entrance, “can…t leave her.”

“Discovery, three to transport.”

Philippa’s head turned to Nilsson before her vision was clouded with gold light.

* * *

Georgiou felt breathless, not just on the injury of the strain around her ribs…

Michael… she was dead.

A part of her didn’t want to believe it but the memory of her face… the expression that lingered in those eyes; her fear… only to watch her drop. The sickening sound that stole her life away in the two seconds that after she let go…

Her life gone just like _that_.

_For her._

It seared at her heart as if T’Kuvma blade had pierce it again. Michael had been _willing_ to die. Determined even to ensure her safety at the expense of her own. Had Michael wanted to die? Unable to do it herself; allowing herself to get into an accident that’d kill her? Philippa had half of those doubts; she never pegged Michael as suicidal.

Seeking redemption, certainly. Did Michael really think this was the way she had wanted her to earn it; by using her life so carelessly? She had never wanted that…

Philippa wanted to exhale out though she kept to her instructed breaths; the mask fixed over her nose and mouth as the doctors continued their assessments of her ribs and lungs.

It had been over two hours since she had been pulled back from the edge by Landry and beamed to sickbay. They hadn’t been able to get Michael’s body from Landry’s report. The transporter couldn’t get a lock due to the energy field emanating from the pit. They were forced to depart from the system. She hadn’t quite been able to process a lot, she knew she had a few drugs in her system, it made her head a little fuzzy.

“Captain Georgiou.”

Her eyes flickered to Dr Culber who appeared beside her. In his hand he held a medical PADD though she could make out the clear scans of her chest. “Doctor Culber.”

“I’ve reviewed your most resent medical scans with your last. You’ve fortunate to have not worsened your state but there are indications of stress damage the synthetic sternum that replaced your damaged one and the bone it’s attached to. It’s aggravated but it’ll heal on its own over the next couple of days so I’ll have to pull you from active duty for that time to heal and no further away missions until we clear it.”

Philippa’s eyes narrowed but she understood. Of course she did. It’d do no one any good by denying her injury, nor any better to ignore it and make it worse. She was far smarter than that. The ship would be well in Saru’s hands in that time. She trusted him well with her new ship.

“Yes, Doctor Culber.” She replied dully. “Can I be cleared to quarters?”

“In another 4 hours. I want to keep monitoring your lungs and heart. There was much more strain than desired on those. How are you doing with the pain?”

Georgiou swallowed. Pain was always there. Manageable but never quite gone. Only flaring with a twist of positions. “Chronic Pain’s never gonna leave but I can manage.”

Culber’s eyes softened. “I can increase your dosage.”

Philippa shook her head. She’d rather not. Becoming dependant on pain medication was one step away towards the possibility of addiction. Not to mention, anything higher made her head feel a little fuzzy as it currently was doing.

Culber took the hint with a nod though he looked a little apprehensive, glancing down to his PADD, his fingers fiddling with its edges. She gave him a look to continue. “I’ve signed off Burnham’s death certificate.”

Philippa swallowed thickly, her stomach tightening at his words. “And?”

“I’ve marked it down as an accidental death than suicide given the…situation.” Dr Culber spoke calmly but held an edge of assurance in his posture. “It was not premediated nor has her depression spiralled for this behaviour and your own injuries suggest that you would let go out of physical exhaustion or gone with.”

“Depression?”

“Mild case, very common with convictions and prison life.”

His tone was meant to be assuring but she knew he was truthful. She knew… of course she did that prison life wasn’t easy, especially for the human psyche. It didn’t make her feel better. It just made her feel worse. Michael didn’t think she was worth saving because she was a prisoner. That her betrayal had marred her from that worth and dignity… She thought she was expendable.

“Would…” Philippa closed her eyes, “How long…would she have lived for? Her injuries?”

Dr Culber looked to his PADD before placing it down at her bed-side, his posture straightening though held his arms in front in a relaxed manner. “She wouldn’t have suffered, Captain. At all.”

Philippa swallowed. “I still…hear it… It was _horrible_.”

“It was quick for her. Death would have been _immediate_.” Culber’s gaze was stern but there was a softness to his expression that balanced it. “No pain. Nothing.”

But the fear was there. Both of them felt it before… falling and watching her fall. It was going to be a lot harder to…talk to someone about this. This wasn’t going to go well with the Admiral’s either…they were going to be so pissed off at her…

She pushed those feelings away; a problem for another day. She felt the soft jab of another Hypospray before she felt the familiar fuzz run through her brain…

* * *

The night had fallen fully over the planet like a cold blanket. Its moon the only light as it bore down into the surface. Spearing through gaps in the trees, offering little light to the surface to see. Baring down regardless of the depth. Boring down into the depth of the deep pit straight to its surface.

Exposing now the form that lay at the bottom.

The figure was sprawled out. A leg curled in more towards her body from the fall, the other stuck a little further out. Her right arm resting slightly curved above her head while the other was thrown off to the side close to her thigh. Brown eyes stared up endlessly, lips open only a fraction with only a few drops of dark red fluid that escaped passed her lips. Blood trailed down from under her head which was tilted over so off from facing up to the mouth— to the moon. It had seeped like dark ink down over the stone, darkening it further, touching into the still water but the trail was dry now.

The uniform, apart from the blood stains from the body, were undamaged. It’s deep blue clear to see in the light, metal on the protective vest glimmering over her chest. A broken end of a rope lay at her boots. The female’s weapon a foot away, broken on impact. The rest of the equipment floated or sunk in the dark waters around

The cavern was the cold. Far colder than the rest of the planet… Frost would almost settle if given the chance at a lesser degree of warmth but nothing moved nor stirred. The cavern was quiet and the woman still lay where she had fallen; nothing had come to investigate since it had happened, and she remained behind, even as the others had left in a glazing flair of gold that left nothing behind but the fallen. The older woman’s screams had vanished with them. Filled with pain and panic; swallowed way. 

Michael Burnham lay alone.

The water rustled as another tremor shook at the surface, barely stirring the body but the rock under her shook then slowly, began to sink under the ice cold surface. The dry stone darkened as the surface seeped over its top, crawling and washing over the moss and blood stains, inching towards Michael’s form until it finally reached her.

It seeped into her uniform first, washing away the undried blood under her head and crawled higher as the rock continued down. Water trickled over her cool skin, seeping over her face slowly though the liquid was quick to pool into her open mouth and down before she was fully submerges, air bubbles escaping passed her lips and breached up towards the surface, but her body continued sinking with the stone until it hit the bottom just over a meter down.

The water fell still again.

On the surface, nothing happened. The planet’s seismic activity had subsided and the planet once again fell into peace of natural order. Under the surface, things began to change.

Slowly as the hour passed, the water began to heat up, steam rising up to form a small fog over its bubbling surface as gas began to rise up, pushing up all around the form inside it.

The warmth seeping into the human corpse, loosening stiffen muscles back to flaccid and moveable. Michael’s locked position loosening up as a result, her arms coming to float in front of her. The damage in them knitting slowly back together and the every broken bones cracked back into place along her spine and neck, her next to crushed skull fractures sewing much more nearly until even the healed tissue was done. Small fractures that laced the entire body faded out and transections and bleeding internally began to recede back, organs torn from sudden deceleration knitting back together until whole again….fluid began to build up in her chest, pressure squeezing around her heart until the still, unbeating muscle was forced into action, blood pumping through her veins as her heart began to pick up to a single beat every 5 seconds then steadily to a brisker pace but still far below normal.

Her body twitched, muscles reaction as the flow of blood began to slowly course through her veins again. Her hands clenched for a second, her back arching, her leg kicking out, lingering air bubbled were squeezed from her as her diaphragm pushed against her lungs. Fresh blood, enriched with the liquid seeped up and into her brain, reigniting the neurological activity as the tissues began to rejuvenate and repair from the extensive trauma that had occurred there….

Minutes passed before Michael’s body convulsed, her lungs expanding with water but oxygen was the next issue. Automatically, her body convulsed again, part of her mind turning on—base instinct to swim—to move—to break the surface. Body moving, she clawed her way up, her boots hitting against the stone bottom before she pushed back; the momentum and bubbles pushing her up until her face broke the surface.

Water gushed from her mouth, coughing up a mixture of the waters and blood and immediately sucking down the ice-cold air. Her heart picking up rapidly in her chest….

Her head spun but instinct kept her going, clawing to stay above the surface, her feet barely able to touch the bottom but her fingers found a ledge, not hesitating to dig her nails into it and found more space…. _enough_ space.

Michael kicked, forcing herself up onto the ledge before she fell still, laying back on it…. Her mind hazy and exhausted…not fully aware of what had just happened. In her chest… she could feel her blood singing through her veins; each pump of her heart rapid and her lungs heaved for breath. The contract of hot water and cold air should have felt alarming but it just felt good….

She felt good…

After a moment, she didn’t fight the exhaustion and allowed herself to be pulled away into the blissful darkness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe now we've looped to the fracture at the start of this story but we're far from done hehe. 
> 
> though I'm in debate, should Michael had a compromised memory? minor or major? I could see there being a possibly due to the head trauma of her skull and brain at the fall but indecisive on the degree. If anyone wants to suggest, then I'm open to hearing :)


	6. Exploration

Darkness was like a weight. Keeping her under, supressing the sparks of awareness that slowly began to flicker through the fog. But it was the cold that kept it coming… the first thing Michael could feel through the dark. It bit at her flesh and her body reacted with a shiver. The coldness tugged each nerves, slowly igniting the nerves under the flesh that added to the growing sensation of her body…

Michael groaned out softly, her mind hazily taking in the sensory information through the weight; disliking it’s immediate presence as pain seemed to flair though next; the shiver sending tingles through her veins…it felt both overwhelming and numbing; like her body couldn’t decide what to feel first. Like an all-over blow to the funny bone….

It all felt too much of a jumble for her mind to comprehend….

So Michael just laid there, trying to find a grounding… _something_ to clear the haze of confusion. It was a weight but there was a lightening to the fog for awareness that did lift in her mind that… something was _wrong_. That she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

Each inhale brought in new scents that didn’t match to any expectations she had. Mud, damp, and fresh air. All smells Michael knew that certainly didn’t belong and… there was a hard coldness under her back and fingers that didn’t feel right. Nothing warm or soft. She could feel against her finger tips it was solid and smooth… what was she lying on?

* * *

It took a while before she felt any sense to her body to _move_ , the motion of turning her head ached and she felt something _pop_ that relieved the tension with an odd sense of satisfaction and a little bit of the combination of relief and pleasure…it made her sigh out.

Pressing her hands down, Michael felt her head swirl as she pushed up, dizziness clouding through but it stopped as she stayed still, sitting up. There were low throbs of pain that raged down her skull, straight down her spine, her mid-spine also cracking in the same manner of her neck which also felt good. Her despite her eyes being closed, she felt the motion of being rocked, as if on a boat…

Michael inhaled deeply before she allowed herself to open them.

Everything around her was fuzzy, as if looking through a frosted window though it took a few blinks before the dark and light cleared up, sharpening up to see she was in a closed space.

It looked to be a sort of cave chamber. Looking around, the darkness of shadows hung around the edges, though she could easily about make out deep red stone lines that ran down the chalk-white rock walls in a very specific design, disappearing into the water that looked a little inky in the dark in comparison to the colour differences. Foliage at seemed to grow along the walls too with a bioluminescent to them, more so the closer that were to the water and red lines, vines seemed to have grown through the rock and stretched around.

From her ledge, Michael could make out a floating bag… bordering on the verse of sinking, even a rope end seemed to snake around in the water; held down by something heavy.

Light steamed down through a hole in the cave ceiling, touching an almost perfect circle patch in the water though she didn’t need to look up to know it was a long way up to the surface.

None of this was familiar.

How did she end up here? Why….why wasn’t she on Discovery?

Michael frowned, taking in the strange sights though she could feel more questions rise; a part of her mind not…quite connecting to the memories. But, one thing was clear; she had to move then find her bearings and try to contact Discovery. She didn’t know how long she had been away but there had to be a way. They’d come for her…

Michael reached forwards, her fingers skimming the water to feel it was luke-warm. Not icy cold. She eyed the bag before she slid from the ledge and back into the water.

“Ooh.” All at once it felt colder than anticipated but she pushed herself forwards regardless, cupping her hands through the water, kicking herself forwards—though the boots made it much harder— she made a note to remove them next time. Though her hands clasped the bag, feeling the inside air act as a float though she didn’t hesitate to pull it towards her and change direction, snagging the rope on her way back to her ledge.

Water splashed up though she clambered with ease back up before her fingers peeled the bag open. Again, nothing of it’s content surprised her, familiar even but she felt pleased to see she hadn’t been left with nothing. Expected kits, emergency, medical and scientific, a phaser though she couldn’t see a communicator there. Must have dropped into the water.

Michael’s eyes flickered to the water but she hoped it’s still be there next time. The emergency kit would probably have a spare. Pulling the rope, she tied it up and shoved it into the bag, pulling out the phaser before she spared a look to the walls.

Through one of the sides, she could make out a wide crack in the white surface, separated by a gap between her ledge and a further one that seemed to lead towards the crack. An opening of sort that she could feel a warm draft of air against her skin. The darkness against the purer colour was much more obvious. There was no strong hand grips but the red lines looked deep enough to use for that purpose.

Slipping the bag onto her back, Michael rose up unsteadily to her feet. Almost immediately, she felt unsteady, _weak_ in a way she didn’t like… the ache that seemed to settle in her bones seemed to linger. Every step forwards seemed to reawaken the slight flairs but she didn’t allow that to stop her.

Her fingers trailed along the wall, hooking into the cracks though she could feel the stone was much rougher than the white. It held as she tested it with her weight so she took that as a good sign. She wedge the tip of her shoe into a crack, lifting herself up against the wall then carefully began to climb across. Her heart thudded a little faster as she cleared from the ledge, though she felt a wave of excitement than fear; the water would take her if she fell.

It wasn’t long before she reached the secondary ledge, stepping down from the wall though she noticed that this has a lot more foliage such as vines and moss seemed to stick to most of the white rock, it’s glow less as they grew out from the opening.

Fingers griping her phaser, she activated the lights on her protective vest that lit up the passage ahead, however, her left one flickered and died but one stayed functional. No light shone down to her but she could feel the drift much more; warm against her skin. A passage. She’d take it.

* * *

The passage stretched on but Michael could feel the air grow hotter and humid, it pricked at her flesh and she could feel the sweat build up and slither down her skin. Ahead, her eyes narrowed to a pin prick of light. One too orange to be hers. Excitement shot through her veins, speeding up until she found herself clambering up a steeper slope.

Rocks for bigger, the scent of grass and a sweetness of fruit too. Though she felt slightly disappointed to see the opening out was much smaller than she was before she got to it. It was slim, about half a meter in length and it’d width was like a letter box.

Michael frowned, though she could see the edges were built up with rock and boulders of all sizes….

“Come on…” She pressed her hand against the stone but it didn’t budge. She tried further down, clawing into the mossy surface until she felt the cool, stone under her nails and pulled; tugging away the dry moss but she could feel the curves and crevices under her finger tips. “One of you has got to move..” she thumped her fist hard; doing nothing more than knocking a few stones from it’s formation but there was nothing more

Pulling herself away, Michael stepped back, eyeing the rock formation. It didn’t escape her a blast could clear it away, but… she could bury herself if the ceiling dropped. Her fingers twitched on the handle. She could see out, but at the angle, she couldn’t see more than the deep blue sky and the tops of the trees. It was almost taunting.

Then all around her, she could feel and hear a low rumbling, the stone under her almost vibrating; pebbles and rocks, she could hear them as they clattered down over the surface. Dust sprinkled down, filling the air with particles.

Michael coughed, her hand coming to cover her face before a low groan echoed drew her attention away. The dust got thicker, rumbles of cracks like breaking snaps echoed throughout but gut instinct kicked in; moving back before suddenly one of the rocks caved. She skittered back, losing her balance before she felt back with a grunt.

The air was immediately knocked out of her lungs but he mind suddenly was filled with flashes;

_The sensation of falling; watching the light of a perfect circle got smaller and smaller; seeing a shocked and horrified face of Captain Georgiou—_

Michael gasped sharply, her heart raced in her chest, ebbs of fear washing through her veins. Her eyes blinked rapidly but the feeling stayed; helplessness, fear and resolve, mixed into one…

She had fallen.

Her throat tightened, inhaling deeply though coughed as she felt the dust fill her lungs… her head spun. How could she have forgotten that? She fell. She should have died…. How did she get away otherwise unharmed? It didn’t make sense.

Her eyes closed.

 _No_.

Michael pushed the feelings away, the questions built up but she locked them away; now was not the time. Her eyes opened; everything around them her still. No shaking, no tremors. All was quiet.

All around, the settlement had stilled, settling all over the moss, her clothes were covered with a fine later of pale dust and it hung a little in the air but not as irritant to her lungs as she took another shallow breath. Brown eyes turned to the crack though she could see it was wider. Barely.

Picking herself up, trying not to think about how the dust was sticking to her damp skin and clothes, Michael clambered to the opening, before sticking her head through. The stone had moved enough for her head to fit though, though she could feel the pressure suddenly against her flesh, pressing against her skull but she was moving… so she didn’t stop (and hoped to hell she didn’t get stuck). Her chest, waist then finally she fell forwards to the ground on the other side. Hot, humid air shot down her throat but she blinked at the light… suddenly pressing over her eyelids but it took a few seconds for her to regain her baring and get up, rolling onto her knees, her fingers knotting into the grass

All around her, lush forests sang in the breeze, the sweet smell became more apparent from blue, apple like fruits that hung on a near tree. A few had dropped and lay rotting on the long grass but it stirred the realisation that…she was _hungry_.

Very hungry.

Picking up her bag, Michael pushed towards the trees, her hand coming to her kit; she had seen a tricorder in there in the science kit. Her fingers found it, pulling it out before she held up the probe to start scanning. The readings were clear, nothing looked to be poisonous and did look to have a high nutrition value. Doubt though slid in next. Despite the initial want of food; caution was necessary. Alien world, alien food— god knew what it’d do to her digestion….

Her fingers reached forwards, curling around the fruit though she felt surpassed at how soft the flesh was… like peach but it’s skin was waxy like an apple. With a soft tug, it came willingly off the stem and rested in her palm. It was a solid weight and the scent was even more tantalizing… Her fingers pressed into it. Feeling how it caved smoothly under her fingers

Her nails broke the surface, purple juice immediately seeped out, coating into the creviced of her fingers, its sweet juice calling out to her…

Stupidity won out, raising it to her mouth before she sunk her teeth into it. Immediately, the juices filled her mouth, sweet as it smelled though its texture was odd. A combination of both an apple and a large grape. Inside the blue skin, it’s inside flesh was lighter in its shade of blue though inside there was a large pit in the centre, black as coal.

“Interesting…” Michael mused quietly but opted to finish, keeping the pit and putting two more of the fruits into her bag before she decided to press on.

* * *

The fruit seemed to have made her perk up with a spout of energy, the pain too seemed to lessen so she took that as a good sign over poisoning. She walked the direction she had come from, even though it was above ground; she knew there had to be a sign of something at the top of the opening. Something to answer the questions that still bubbled.

Though things started to feel very familiar; stone ruins particularly. She could just about recall that…she had uplifted some of the dirt on one of the steps with Georgiou as she passed up i. She stopped though a few times when the planet began to shake again but nothing she found to worrying; even though she felt a sliver of fear at each one… the feeling of _falling_ resonating within her every time. She hated that.

But, getting closer to the main ruin, Michael could feel the waves of discomfort at every step. That _getting closer was a mistake. Turning back now was her best option. Stay away._ All of those thoughts crossed her mind but… Michael couldn’t see any logical reason to follow those impulses.

Her steps paused though as she saw the opening pit. Familiar though the dirt had been kicked around the stone than last time.

She closed her eyes…

_“This is it.” Georgiou spoke, her tricorder out but a hint of confusion laced her features. “But…It can’t be?”_

_Michael walked towards the edge of the pit and looked down._

_The smooth stone edge went down for about a few feet then turned into rough, white, cave like material but the drop was long. Directly at the bottom of the drop-zone was a slab of stone, encrusted with dark moss and the light glistened around that suggested water was present; perhaps a chamber down the tunnel drop. Tossing down a stone, Michael waited until she heard the quiet tinkering of stone. “90 feet….just about.” She called out. “Is what we’re looking for in this pit?”_

_Georgiou looked up from the PADD then exhaled. “We’ll have to check.”_

_Michael nodded, her eyes searching the bottom. It was dark… not too dark if she could still make out the bottom._

_“Get away from there. I don’t want you to fall in.”_

Michael’s eyes snapped open, a low gasp escaping her lips… she had fallen, Georgiou had warned her away and she hadn’t listened. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself forwards… god, why was everything so hard to put together?

Her heart pumped faster, she could feel her breathing increase as she got closer… her eyes darted around; seeing the same alter from the memories… but there was also another few things that she knew weren’t from before. A communicator glistened in the sun light, as well as something else..

Michael eyed the edge, dropping her bag to the floor, she lowered herself down before she forced herself to crawl closer to the edge— she couldn’t fall down it again so close to the ground. Her fingers reached forwards, brushing the dirt though Michael felt her eyebrows raise as she realised what it was.

The smooth badge glistened with gold, its face displaying pips of captaincy and hardly damaged; only covered in dirt. Her fingers turned it over.

 _Georgiou_  
Philippa  
SC0025-0128SHN

Her fingers ran over the name…”Philippa…” it must have fallen off at some point.

“Hello”

Michael yelped, rolling onto her backside, her hand immediately pointing the phaser to the direction of the voice.

At the tree line, a few meters away stood a short female. Both ears were curled up, her eyebrows upturned straight and her beige cheeks flushed an almost green ting. Both eyes were a deep brown with a clean sweep. A Vulcan? Here? Her eyes ran down the Vulcan’s neat and pristine clothes, the uniform the classic blue Starfleet though the shoulders were laced with gold; though the Vulcan bore no uniform name badge; it was clear this one was a captain.

“Who are you?” Michael demanded.

The female Vulcan raised her hands, stepping closer. “I’m T’Sol, Oh, Captain of the USS Utopia that was destroyed 4 months ago.”

Michael blinked. “I thought the ship was lost with all hands.”

T’Sol nodded, stepping closer though remained cautious. “Yes, I believed that may have been assumed. I was transported down by my first officer before the ship’s warp core breached. I’ve been here ever since. When I saw your crew, I thought rescue but I wasn’t able to get to them in time.”

Carefully, Michael found herself lowering the phaser. Her eyes searched the Vulcan expression but all she saw was a familiar sense that this Vulcan was telling the truth. Where would the logic be if she was lying?

“Michael Burnham.” Michael moved away from the edge, tightening her grip on the badge before she pushed herself up.

“I know,” T’Sol answered, her face passive, “You’re not that forgettable in the turn of events that led me here to start with.”

“Sorry.”

“Nonsense. It’s illogical to assume the blame onto _one_ person.” T’Sol brushed off, “I read the reports but given our shared situation, it’ll be necessary for us to rely on each of our skills to survive here until another rescue ship arrived.”

Michael could see a few flaws; if she had fallen, it was to assume they’d think her dead; no one would come back for her.

“Do you have a camp?”

T’Sol hesitated before shaking her head. “Unfortunately, a more resent quake has collapsed my shelter behind a wall of rock. There was nothing I could do.” She shook her head.

Michael spared a look around, shivering at the sight of the pit. “We can use these ruins. There’s more intact area down there that should suffice as living space. I passed it walked here.” She nodded down the direction to the far arch way.

“Wise choice.”

The Vulcan turned swiftly and took the lead towards it, her hands tucked behind her back calmly as she went. Michael grabbed her bag and followed after her, feeling to some relief; she was not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, I'm quite excited about T'Sol and her arc and all. I was temped for a human captain but i figured she might respond better to a vulcan authority. It's familiar and no emotional issues lol.
> 
> what do you think?
> 
> don't worry, things are gonna be explained, like that water. I'm building up to it :)
> 
> now, most of the chaps are gonna be around Micheal than Georgiou. If you want to feel the whole grieving process on Georgiou's end, that you can sort of get in my fic, 'it shouldn't have been her'. I don't want to focus too heavily on that atm (maybe I will when i get to the later chapters)


	7. Working with Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a necessary call out that this chapter contains a SELF-HARM warning on the last few paragraphs for those that need it. Just prepare yourself and ordinarily, i wouldn't include it but the nature of this fic requires it. Nothing too graphic of course but it there anyway.
> 
> Now, you can avoid it by not reading the last separation of the chapter

Working with a Vulcan was not unfamiliar, in fact, it was oddly pleasant. The captain kept her judgements to herself and there was no idol prattle and it allowed Michael to focus on the problem in front, such as the ruins, than think back on what had _happened_.

The ruins were more or less intact the further away she got. So she took that as a good sign to poke her head into the last one. Though the door looked to have rotted away, its small windows still in its tone panels, encrusted by mud and grim that made seeing through impossible. Inside, it was dark but huge. Light stretched in, revealing lots of moss, soil, grass, vines and a mixture of animal bones all over the floor.

Her eyes roamed the surfaces, picking up no stream of light coming from any cracks nor draft of air. There was furniture; rotted wooden structures lay about in splinters though there was a space in the wall that looked ornamental… though odd.

Michael stepped in, making sure to avoid the bones, turning the light on her vest to shine into it. The wall was covered in inscriptions, but cavity looked to be carved into the stone that draw out an alter like design in the wall itself. Space was carves out around and above it; looking to be useable by a humanoid figure to get on and off it. Though it covered in rotted mess that she could assume was material. Other cavityes were carved into the wall around the bed and looked to have once been some sort of shelving system.

Was this some sort of bed? Michael set her back down, pulling out her tricorder for the initial scans.

“This is a good one.”

Michael flinched as the sound of the Vulcan Captain’s appearance, almost dropping her tricorder. She sucked in a deep breath. “I think this is some sort of bed but the furniture in this room looks to be unusable. It’s rotted away.”

T’Sol nodded. “I know, but nothing we can’t build. There looks to be…some sort of fire place. I can collect a few stones and foliage and start a fire. Should give us light to work in than your vest-lights can provide and heat for the cold nights.”

In front of the Vulcan, there was another cavity in the stone, lingering stains of ash though seemed to steak down the stone surface though it was a convenient size for the room, it wouldn’t be large enough for them to boil water or food over it. They’d have to do that outside.

“This is clearly a living space for a couple. Small enough for comfortable space of two, not large enough to have redundant areas. The…placement of the bed space uses the space that would allow more area for living in. The size is large for two humanoids and large cavity around was designed for…space. No doubt for the necessity of their mating practises.” T’Sol mused, taking the tricorder with from her hand in mild interest to read the analysis “I’ll collect the necessary materials from outside while you continue. Clean out the bed space and the fire and the immediate areas.”

Michael nodded though she knew better than to argue with a _Captain_. “Yes, Captain.”

T’Sol nodded then handed the tricorder back then walked smoothly towards the door frame and out without a backwards glance. Again, this blunt attitude was not uncommon for a Vulcan but something about it just…bristled against her. Very abrupt, to the point and logical. Why did that bother her?

Michael could muse that it was perhaps the isolation the Vulcan had been though the last couple of months that she hardened her. Vulcans did like being alone, solitude was preferred but even then, they had their tolerances. _Lonely_ was a different matter for them.

Plus, Michael didn’t see the logic in not doing what the captain said, given they both had to live in here. Setting aside the unrelated kits, rope and fruit, Michael found the survival kit at the bottom again and pulled it out, shoving everything else back in before she opened up the small bag.

Inside there was three compressed emergency blankets, compass, a upgraded version 21st Swiss army knife, a proper knife, flint and matches, phaser chargers compressed lighting—solar powered recharge so they had to be moved into the sun during the day to work at night, a small solar powered multi-tool charger —same need as the lights— a sewing kit, the med kit, a spare communicator and the bottom was a water filter stuffed next to a collection of varying strings and wires along with fire starters. Food rations were packed in along all them.

All she knew they’d need but they hadn’t packed for camping. There was no tent, nor sleeping bags for comfort…. The blankets they’d have would have to be multi-purposeful….

Michael sighed, picking out the solid knife. At least she had had the right bag before the fall. The Captain probably hadn’t realised she had all of this….

Shrugging off her vest. Michael removed her uniform jacket; feeling a swell of relief given the humidity to be free of unnecessary fabrics. She took the few small lights and fixed them into the darkest corners; spreading light to unveil the rest of the room before she allowed herself to get to work.

* * *

The day seemed to get hotter and hotter as Michael cleared out the room. Her clothes stuck to her, sweat sticking and sliding down her skin and clearing the room out was much harder than intended, especially discovering a family of what she could label as rodents that ran from their burrow as soon as she removed a long decayed skull of a native creature from the corner. Surface to say. Michael proceeded with much more caution.

She did find a few useable items, such as pottery so she took some time to clean them out to use,

Captain T’Sol did return with her resources, currently using a mixture of branches and leaves that were fashioned into a broom to sweep the floor. Michael found herself using a familiar quill to help uproot the encrusted dirt at the bed without damaging (like the knife would)

“How familiar are you with the local plant life, Captain T’Sol?” Michael inquired, blowing away the bits of soil and greenery from a particular carving at the head side of the bed.

“Quite. I’ve conducted my own studies of the plant life since being here and I’ve been reliant on them. I notice the…fruit you have collected. Those are a good source of nutrient and are very common.”

“These quills?” She could recall stabbing herself earlier… she never really found out what it was.

T’Sol glanced up, eyeing the quill she had. “Those are a harmless variety. Their quills protect the main trunk of their plant from vegetarian predators given the high nutrition it inside cluster of fruits is. The tips produce a neurotoxin that acts like a painkiller, however, too much exposure will result in paralysis of the nerves.”

“Hardly a good way to reproduce for a plant. Must be some sort of seasonal plant is it’s got defensive toxins”

“We can study it later. I take it you found yourself at the end of one if you’re inquiring about it specifically."

Michael nodded, getting back to work though she felt a silver of pleasure to see the last dregs of dirt uplift. “I walked back into one, nothing more than a few punctures but it’s healed up.” She had checked. There wasn’t even a scar under that Band-Aid.

Using a collection of cut grasses, Michael put them out at the bottom of the stone bed, adding leaves to boost it up before spreading one of the blankets over it; a mattress.

“Okay, the bed is done. As much as I know it may be awkward for the both of us, we may have to share.” A suggestion that did make her uncomfortable but ideal. Body warmth would be necessary and it saved on time and resources at the present to not make another bed up.

T’Sol paused in her sweeping, any indication was shown as her lips pursed but she nodded. “I will take the side to the edge. I won’t need as much sleep as you do so I may leave more efficiently than…clamber around you.”

Michael released a breath and nodded. “I can agree to that, Captain.”

“Standard protocols should still be applied given our ranks, the matter of privacy and boundaries particularly.” T’Sol added, putting the broom to the side and kicked the jumble of mess out the front door.

The captain continued to talk on about toiletry needs and timings of baths, establishing a routine that could keep personal _personal_ and Michael was fine with that. Neither of them wanted to walk in on each other.

With their combined help, the room did start to feel more inhabitable. Shelves were cleared and T’Sol was able to get water, both for hydration and for cleaning. Michael was more than happy to get the water filter ready before she returned, gulping down the first available water before she devoured another fruit; expended energy returning through her veins as she laid up against the near wall beside the makeshift table. T’Sol pushed another cup into her hands and she goggled it down just as quickly. One thing she loved about the filter, it cooled the liquid down…

“These rations will only last us a couple days at most. Tomorrow morning, once you’re rested, I can show you the local flora, what’d edible and what’s not.” T’Sol stopped, taking her open heavy drink with a deep sigh, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Agreed. We have basic equipment but we will need to look in making more.” She had survival training of course, but that was simply to wait out a few weeks for rescue. There was no rescue…

Michael’s stomach tightened at the thought; No one was going to come back. T’Sol was thinking long term; she _had_ to as well… her eyes closed after a moment, her stomach twisting at the thought. She hadn’t tried to think that far ahead. Hadn’t wanted to.

“Are you okay, Burnham?”

Michael nodded softly, “Not…everything had come back to me.”

The Vulcan’s head twisted sideward, her eyebrows pulling in with a quizzical look. “Come back?”

Michael sucked in a heavy breath. “The…pit where you first found me earlier. I think I fell down it.”

T’Sol’s eyes ran down her figure though there was an immediate sense of doubt. “You’re not injured.”

“I know, I know but… I just have this feeling. I woke up at the bottom of it; took ages to get out through the caves systems.” She pushed quickly out, reaching for the pot for another cup of water but forced her eyes away from the captain, “everything I my head on what happened is…fuzzy.”

“Dehydration can distort memory, there must be a more logical explanation.”

Michael shook her head. “I know there is but this… this feels real. I get glimpses of hanging onto a rope, the sensation of falling, seeing my captain’s face get smaller then it’s all gone. I don’t—“ She stopped, closing her eyes. “I can’t explain it. But…I know that Captain Georgiou would have done more to find me if she knew I was alive. She wouldn’t have left me.”

“Then,” Captain T’Sol spoke, her tone turning solemn, “you must have been mistaken about her.”

Coldness seized at Michael’s stomach but she found herself glaring at her but there was that internal sense of fear that clawed at her insides; that Philippa did just didn’t try. No. She had to keep what she knew to herself.

“Excuse me.” Michael grabbed her last fruit before she walked away from the Vulcan.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Michael kept away from the Captain. She did however, occupy her mind with gathering wood and more water and even manages to find more of the fruit— dubbing it a blueapple for the sake of a sharable identification for it—to go along with their ration supply for their dinner.

Though she couldn’t help but find her mind drifting back, the sky getting dark now as she handled the bag load of blueapples. She knew her mind was fuzzy and muddled, but that shouldn’t disprove what she felt was real. She didn’t need Captain T’Sol’s doubt. Clearly this had to be personal; something she had to figure on her own.

Though she shivered again as the temperate drop seemed to feel much more prominent against her skin. Through the twilight, Michael could see the orange light through the cracks of the make-shift door.

 _Thunk_!

Michael hissed sharply as she slipped up the step, the mulch of soil squelching, her hand shooting out, one staying curled around the bag, the other slamming into the corner of the exposed step; a burning sharp pain firing through her palm before she even properly finished the decent. Her hip banging against the covered side though she pulled her hand away, hissing again to examine the wound.

Michael gasped sharply, the sensations in her stomach turn to ice. The shallow red cut suddenly get less predominant and paler, the slight hints of blood also seemed to just…seep back in; her palm becoming back to its usual appearance. As if never harmed.

Her breath held, her fingers coming to touch over the smooth skin. Nothing, no abrasion… no pain, she couldn’t even feel the tingle of nerves. One thing was for certain, that wasn’t normal.

* * *

“I’m going out for final wood collection. I should be back in 10 minutes.” Captain T’Sol spoke.

It was dark and night had drawn, their bellies were full but Michael put herself to bed; but she couldn’t sleep, her back facing out though she was glad to hear the Vulcan leave. The door was returned back to place and the heat of the fire stayed in, cracking around their new home.

The bed wasn’t comfortable but it was better than the floor. But Michael couldn’t find the focus to think on that… her fingers traced over her palm, uneasy… it filled her with a deep sense of dread.

What happened to her?

Turning to see T’Sol was gone—she was—, Michael pulled the Swiss knife from her pocket, flicking it open. The light bounced off the shiny surface though she felt hear pulse increase as she brought it back to her palm…

Michael hesitated, the feel of pain; the distaste of how it felt…

She closed her eyes, pressing the blade down, allowing herself to feel the blade before the skin broke suddenly. Immediately, she gritted her teeth, pulling the blade back, opening her eyes to see the blood pooling in her palm and for a second there was nothing— doubts sudden began to arouse in the back of her head; Captain T’Sol would be back; this would be hard to explain. She wasn’t the type to self-harm…

Then she watched in cold silence as the pool began to seep back into the cut, the skin steadily knitting back together; the blemish of a cut…disappearing, leaving only a light blood trail over the skin and on the blade. The wound healed.

Michael let out her breath, flicking the knife back into her pocket, lying herself back down quickly but she could feel how her heart raced in her chest. How could she have healed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know this isn't the longest chapter but it's more for a filler chapter now :) I also wanted to deepen the mystery about what happened to Michael and I sort of want to follow more to T'Sol as well. 
> 
> The end game will be Michael x Georgiou though would it be too adverse to dabble lightly to a little shipping with T'Sol? ( even if it's not romantic-- they both alone in each others company lol and attractive women (T'sol's Fc would be Joan Chen ) and well, there's gonna be a time gap before Georgiou makes an appearance)


	8. Night musings

Her head thumped in her chest, rapid.

_“I’m sorry!” Pain ached though her palms, the feel as the rope’s surface was too rough for her fragile skin, gravity like a grip as she could feel as it pulled on her; the vast emptiness bellowing under them. Her fingers loosened. Willingly. The burn like fire that suddenly seemed to register to her brain before the rope was gone…. But the fear echoed, resonating in the fraction of a moment; feeling like the reality was slow…_

_Above her, she could see Philippa, her hands grasping the rope end; her eyes wide, her mouth open and her beige skin flushed with blood, the strain that made a few veins visible on her temple._

_“Michael!” Philippa’s face echoed with her fear and horror; smaller and smaller then—_

Michael gasped sharply, sitting up sharply; narrowly avoiding cracking her head as her hands shot ahead of her. Her blood pumped through her veins, her lungs heaved for breath and for a second, she felt a welt of disorientation; a low feeling of pain resonating down the back of her head…down her spine before it was gone.

Michael panted softly for breath, sparing a glance around; the fire was burning low, a low amber light stretching from its fireplace, filling the small room with heat. The door still shut so it was all contained in but… through the dark, Michael couldn’t see the sleeping form of the Vulcan.

“Captain T’Sol?” She croaked. Her hand moved, trying to feel beside her out of precaution but the space beside her was empty. Her eyes squinted but al she could feel was the familiar feel of the emergency basket.

Where was she?

Michael scooted from her little slot, feeling blindly for the little shelve until her fingers brushed against a cool, circular, metallic object before she found the release button.

Light suddenly poured white and bright as if she had looked directly at a torch that was only a few centimetres away from her eyeball. Michael groaned, snapping her eyes shut at its sudden brightness but weasel her fingers to pluck it up; the light pressing against her eyelids but she opened them slowly, allowing herself to adjust to it before she shone it around.

The beams found the stacks of wood beside the embers. The emergency kit was laying on the floor and she could make out the pot at the side of the water filter but… she was alone.

“T’Sol?”

Carefully, Michael slipped from the bed surface, her socks catching on something sharp but she stepped carefully towards the fire before she reached for a new log and tossed it into the ambers. Within a few moments, the ambers caught returned into small flames, bringing out dancing orange light that shone around.

“Captain?” She felt a sudden wave of anxiety wash through her. Keeping a firm grip to the light, Michael scurried towards the window, trying to peer through but all she could see was the vast blackness of night and grime that clung to the window surface.

Where could she have gone?

* * *

“Burnham”

Michael jerked awake suddenly, suddenly rewarded with an ache that protected down her spine though her eyes snapped open to the warm grip on her forearm that let go.

Her head darted up, craning to see it was Captain T’Sol. She sucked in a heavy breath, sparing a look around, vaguely recalling settling down next to the fire… must have dozed off.

“Are you alright?”

Michael licked her dry lips, nodding though she pushed herself up off the wall, her body protesting with the movement but she could feel the blood deep back and warm the cool areas. “Where…where did you go?” she carefully pushed herself up, sighing heavily though her balance wobbled. Her hand reached out to the wall to keep herself up; adjusting after a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Last night.” Michael glanced to T’Sol, unable to help the frown at the quizzical look the captain gave her. “I woke up last night but you weren’t there.”

T’Sol’s eyebrows drew in. “I do not call being up at all last night. I did go to bed sometime after you.”

Looking at her, it didn’t look like the Vulcan was lying but Michael knew what she saw… or what she _didn’t_ in this case. Either T’Sol was aware of her night-trip or wasn’t, or a third option she had yet to consider. But given their circumstances, T’Sol certainly would have woken her up if she was planning on leaving; as a _precaution_ in this unfamiliar wilderness… why deny it?

“Perhaps…. I could have been dreaming.” Michael sighed, shaking her head. “I suppose given…everything, I worry about being alone.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman who nodded. “Yes, that is logical. Humans are a social species… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised your fear has manifested in such a manner.” Moving away, T’Sol grabbed another piece of wood and place it into the low embers. “You’re not the first human I’ve had to work with so I do understand your…emotional troubles. Especially in our situation. Our dynamic will take some getting used to.”

“I’ve lived on Vulcan for most of my life, Captain. The dynamic is familiar” Michael moved to the filter, though she felt a swell of relived to taste the clean water as it ran down her throat…revelling in it’s refreshing touch; sharping the slight fuzz from her mind. Her fingers brushed the sleep from her eyes, placing the cup down to stretch; bones and joins popped, the muscles along her body tightening as she stretched.

“Eat your fruit and then take a walk with me. I said yesterday I was going to show you the different types of flora we can eat and can’t.” The Vulcan grabbed the bag she had, emptying the fruit into the bed though she stopped sharply. “Did you cut yourself last night? There’s blood…”

Michael’s stomach froze like ice, her mouth feeling suddenly try and her lungs seized in her chest. Her eyes turned to see T’Sol leaning over. Michael swallowed. There was no mistake given their literal blood colour differences….

Her hand came to her pocket, feeling for a second relief to feel the Swiss army knife will there.

“Possibly.” She forced herself to keep a composed expression and voice but she felt a welt of relief as T’Sol leant away. “I did get up…”

T’Sol nodded carefully but tucked the fruit away, leaving a few out for them before she packed the bag up with their necessary equipment, as limited as it was.

* * *

Georgiou sat alone in her quarters. An odd feeling of both numbness and a new sense of ache that lingered in her chest; with nothing to do with her chronic injury. Guilt like a pathogen just… raged at her constantly…with anger.

She was angry.

 _Furious_.

At Michael, at herself, at Starfleet… all with different reasons. Now the outcome of all of that was the fact Michael was dead. No matter how she looked at it. Michael had been there on her request, despite Landry’s objections. They had all been there on Starfleet’s orders….misreading of the planet lead Starfleet of a potential power source that could have led to their technological development…

It had only taken a small slip for it to go all horribly wrong. Anger at how easily Michael gave up; they had a chance; _she_ had a chance if she had done more. Guilt though… that came in heavy there. The way Michael looked up at her; everything she had done wiping away in that moment to reveal only Michael at her heart; it was agonising to see… hear how she perceived her own self-worth…

Michael had been many things; Child, Orphan, Human, first Officer. Mutineer. Prisoner. IN the eyes of many, everything Michael had been was washed away; tarnished by her reputation of her actions of that fateful day.

_‘Let me deliver the warheads I your place’_

Redemption.

In its most basic form. She had wanted that for Michael. Wanted the woman to _earn_ it just as she desperately wanted it back. Reclaim _something_ of a life. Now she didn’t even have that. Because of what?

Philippa knew why. She had been a fool. To go on this away mission herself in her _condition_ … If Landry or Nilsson had been paired up with Michael, they would have been able to save her. No, sentimental reasoning had played it’s part, despite her desire to keep it away.

She’d not make that mistake again.

Couldn’t now, in the most horrific way. They couldn’t even give her a funeral. There was no body to send off; Sarek had ordered her belongings to be delivered back to his residents after news had gotten back; but he already knew she was dead. Somehow.

Philippa hadn’t cared about the lecture she received from Cornwell about it but there was nothing anyone could do; even if it made her feel sick to hear that some felt justice was served from the few who didn’t keep their mouth shut around Tilly. Suffice to say, she didn’t have them clean out plasma conducts for nothing. Michael didn’t deserve that.

Georgiou heard her door chime before she inhaled deeply, ignoring the flair that came with the gesture.

“Come.”

Her eyes watched weakly from her desk to see it was Commander Saru. She relaxed somewhat; glad it wasn’t Landry or Cadet Tilly. The latter had been very upset with Michael’s death and the former had been too cold about it. Two extremes she hadn’t wanted to be with.

“Captain, May I enter?”

Philippa nodded, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. Saru nodded though he looked… hesitant as he lowered himself in.

“How’s the ship going?”

Saru didn’t look at all surprised at the topic though he refrained from showing it at the least.

“All running as expected, the drive is…optimal and crew are working to full expectations.” He reported, “I did not come here for a professional visit, Captain, I came to see how you are.”

“Physically, still healing again. I’ll be back on duty in a few day’s time.”

Saru stayed quiet, sitting back. “Please don’t blame yourself for her death, Captain.”

Her eyes rose sharply to his face, narrowing swiftly but he held her stern look. “It was my fault, Saru. I was warned away from bringing her and I didn’t listen. Now she’s dead.” Her throat tightened but she held it back from getting any further.

“Captain, she chose to let go.”

“Because she didn’t feel like her life was worth mine. She thought she was expendable. Worth less, even… I didn’t think to consider—“ She stopped, shaking her head. “She didn’t deserve that.”

Saru continued to look away, down into his lap. “It was a quick death.”

That was the only comfort of her death Philippa knew she had. A quick one. Not the extension of suffering alone, out of reach… she still, in a sense died alone. An 80ft drop, she knew the damage to what would have happened in her research.

Shattered skull, catastrophic internal bleeding into the brain, trisected internal organs; her liver in three different places from the deceleration, broken bones and fractures down every and all bones of the body, torn aorta… so many injuries in a fraction of a second in impact. Nothing of their medical science would have saved her if they had gotten her out in time.

Yes, it was a quick death. But 80 feet down, Michael died alone and out of reach; unable to get the burial she should have had here. At least then, she could have felt closure.

“Once this war is _Won_ , Saru. I will come back.” Philippa promised. “Either by ship...or shuttle, But I want to come back and bring her home. Even if it’ll be bones in a box, her resting place shouldn’t be on an unknown alien world… It’s the least I should do for her. Sarek and Amanda would want that for their daughter.”

Michael would want that too.

To bring her remains back to the people who loved her.

Like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, i know this is a small chapter but it's a necessary filler chapter. 
> 
> The next chapters gonna be important so keep intuned!
> 
> I hope you're all loving it so far, having too much fun plus I've decided on what'll happen in regards to Michael and T'Sol so I hope you like it anyway. if any tags change, you'll probably find out lol


	9. Unwelcomed surprises

“Come on…” Michael hissed out softly to herself, her fingers burned and ache ran throughout her torso as she fought against the pull of gravity. One hand up, one leg up, digging her boot into the surface for grip before pushing her weight up with a kick….then having to do it all again.

Blood pumped through her veins, she could feel the heat of it flush her cheeks in the already-hot weather, the sweat too that dripped down her skin, and into the fabric of her scuffed vest but that hardly stopped her from her target.

Her target was a melon-like fruit. Bright red in shell with huge waxy, green leaves that almost covered it from the harsh constant light from where it was growing. Halfway up towards the canopy of a large tree. In direct sunlight and quite high up. Which made getting it very difficult…and _painful_.

Her heart leapt as gravity suddenly yanked, her foot slipping a fraction. Immediately, she hugged the trunk, nails biting into the soft bark…. Staying put. That was almost a relief… a part of her suddenly didn’t want to move— fear of falling suddenly seizing at her muscles…. but the ache and tiredness would make that impossible.

“Come on…” She inhaled deeply, the scent of sweet pine smothering her sense of smell as she forced herself to move, lifting her leg again, allowing the sole to feel along for another notch until she focused her weight down onto it, and lifting herself up another step.

Finally though. Michael was glad to see the melon in her sights, transferring herself from trunk to branch, wrapping her legs around it before carefully laying down onto her front, keeping her eyes on the prize than the sizeable drop below.

A low queasy feeling settled in her stomach, but she fought the feeling as she got closer. The Melon hung happily in the shade, barely moving as the branch shook. Carefully, Michael’s fingers wrapped around the handle of her knife, withdrawing it from her belt before she reached forwards and pressed it into the stem. With gentle motions, the blade began to slice through; subtly shifting the melon as the gravity pulled as its connection was weakened…

Then it dropped.

The knife too but she quickly grabbed onto the branch, swerving around to see the melon bounce harmlessly to the forest floor…until the knife suddenly impaled it. Though the reality of the mission done, Michael turned her focus back… to her current position.

Stuck up a tree.

Though, Michael didn’t consider herself _stuck_ , the initial feeling of potential falling returning did seem to back up the fact she could. From her estimation of looking down, she had to be 20 feet up… she shouldn’t be that scared, she had fallen four times as high before…

Carefully, she slinked backwards from her branch, until she felt her rear hit the trunk, she weasel her way back around the trunk and began her slow decent down.

* * *

“I bare melons and more root-potatoes!” Michael declared, happily to the Vulcan, covered in a mixture of tree-sap, dirt and melon juice though she put the basket down next to the other ones before pulling out the two overall melons and placed them in the correct basket. Her state of clothes would leave little to the imagination, despite the fact T’Sol had suggested not to climb up high trees.

The Vulcan in question paused in her work, putting down the half-finished wicker basket and peered into them. She reached in and retrieved one.

“You know, we should corner off a second of the forest and clear it. We can plant these and grow more like your Earth potatoes.” T’Sol dropped it down, before picking up another, a bigger one that was about the size of a grape-fruit, sorting through it until she picked out a small selection, rubbing her fingers to pick away some of the incrusted dirt.

Like many of the fruit and vegetable items, Michael had called this a close earth name given its near-identical nature of an Earth potato in terms of being a stable vegetable that grew underground and colouring. Unlike an Earth potato, its inside was less watery and had to be soaked in water for a few hours before boiling down to bring down its hardness. It also looked more like a root given its length and root-offshoots that covered it.

“We have plenty of rooms to clear out first. Maybe we can convert those into a greenhouse?” Nodding her head towards the ruins, the ones they hadn’t touched since they settled.

T’Sol hummed. “Possibly. We should use the one next to us as soon as it’s cleared for storage. Especially out foods given our findings are proving bountiful.”

“Once we fix the roof, and clean it out to be habitable.” Another tiresome job. Michael was exhausted with cleaning, as necessary as it was. Their home now was clean and liveable but was getting more crowded with the more things they made.

T’Sol had long since gotten more creative and made more things, such as baskets, clay pots and a few weapons, such as an axe. Michael had been surprised the Vulcan had the patients to widdle down the rock to a sharp point in the first place.

If she was honest, everything about the Vulcan was weird. By now, Michael had been careful to not question the woman’s odd behaviours; such as the routine disappearance at nights and being completely being _unaware_ of it. Returning by day, starting the next project or cooking, talking idly about a new chapter in her planetary research she was compiling. The woman’s ability of bush crafts was far too high for a Starfleet captain. From Vulcan. Those abilities were obsolete yet _here_ ; perfect.

Another thing Michael did find odd was also the planet. Not just on the fact it had something to do with her current state of questionable existence but the fact that… everything they had was in good supply. Michael knew all too well from old reports that most cases, things were hard to come by; more things were looking to kill them than things abilities to eat.

Two mysteries she planned to solve. First starting with T’Sol.

“Captain. Once I wash up, I want to take a trip down to your old camp.” Michael started, brushing into the house for a fresh cup of water. The first sip made her sigh out, feeling as it all spread relief into her veins… watering her tongue.

“May I inquire to why?” The Vulcan asked, a frown in her voice. “It’ll hardly be productive given it’s buried.”

Michael resisted rolling her eyes, glugging down another cup full before rubbing the water into her hands, into her skin, cleaning away the sweat and left her feeling a little more refreshed. She reached for her uniform jacket, using it to dry herself off before pattering out to the Vulcan again, a bag in tow.

“Curiosity, Plus, I want to see if there’s a chance we could gain more technology. I assume you left everything you had in there before the cave in.”

“I wouldn’t advise expending your energy.” It was clear to hear the disapproval in the captain’s voice and the manner of how she continued with her weaving. “You can’t actually get to _anything_.”

“Then my curiosity will have been satisfied, captain T’Sol. I won’t need to speak of it again.” Her reasoning was sound. She had enough logic and the captain knew enough of human curiosity to consider her inquiry.

After a moment, the Vulcan nodded, “I won’t accompany you if you decide to go.”

“That’s fine.” At least then she wouldn’t have to over worry on being stuck with her all day. As much as she did appreciate the amount of work the captain was putting in; she was a lot when it was day-in-day-out. If she had been stuck with Philippa, at least then, things would have been a little more relaxing. “I’ve managed to link up our communicators for us to talk to each other, if I run into a problem or vice versa, we should be able to maintain contact.”

From the bag, she held out the emergency communicator and lipped it open. Her second communicator beeped inside her bag.

T’Sol took it with a nod. “Wise choice.” She placed it down beside her; snapping it shut. “However, please don’t stay out too late….or get caught in a cave in.”

Michael’s lip twitched before she nodded. “yes, Captain. But first, where am I going?”

* * *

The humidity pressed in all around her, through every breath and exhale; there was no option of a relieving breath from the heat. The only fortune of not over heating was the cloud that covered the sun but even then, the cloud was going to wear thin _real_ soon.

So Michael kept the pace going.

T’Sol’s descriptions of the path down had been vague, but her location hadn’t been. It had just been a matter of following to the likely places and crossing them off but she had a good feeling about this particular area.

There was a nearby mountain side, white sand from both limestone and Chalk Mountains yet even dirt layers were compacted around, enabling the spread of vegetation across the surfaces. The trees were much shorter as a result, less fruit and less often the higher she got. There was no pathway so Michael kept careful to not wander where she could get lost.

Ahead, the ground levelled out, a part of it breaking off and restarting a slope up to another layer but there was a vast, barren space, broken tree trunks, piles of white sand now ashes that was spread around with wind. Near the slope, edge, there were deep crevices that broke through its rocky surface, exposing cave-fissures both natural and non. Piles of sand and stone dusted down all the sides and some of the piles slouched in to the crevices.

But the state of the ashes and broken trees were enough for Michael to see this was the right place. Her hands felt about, withdrawing her tricorder from her bag.

“Now, let’s see where you are…” Michael muttered quietly to herself, running the tricorder along the wall, her eyes not leaving the screen as she went; the scans soon revealing the internal structure of several chambers within the slope. Almost all dotted too small for humanoid size and stretched down, out of the scanners range but one large internal cavern bloomed at the dead centre.

It showed it was just a bit smaller than their home space, but the scans had shown the face it was now partially filled in. The infrastructure above had collapsed, filling the inside with sand and stones of various sizes. All had the same composition of the mountain side so, Michael could tell it would be lighter to move than if it was granite.

Her heart leapt with a swell of excitement. “Yes!” Inside, there were high signatures of federation technology and boxes. Much more than what they had at their camp. Perhaps T’Sol’s first officer had managed to beam down a grander survival kit than what she had. A gold-mine, so to speak. And T’Sol wanted to leave it _behind_?

Michael couldn’t see the logic but she shunted it towards the woman’s odd behaviour. Now she could see what the woman could have left behind, if _that_ was her _logical_ reason.

The recent quakes, she had to consider, made this inherently weaker. Once she started, she’d have to finish before the next quake hit that could bury her. The Technology wasn’t too far in, so she’d have to clear the bigger stone at top and dig through that…

Her eyes ran across the surface, her arms lowering as she began to visually assess the placements....

_Chirp_

Michael jumped, her hands dropping the tricorder and her head spun around; until she realised the sound had been her communicator. She exhaled heavily, crouching down before she pulled the device from the bag.

“Captain T’Sol.” She hid her emotions from her voice, the upbeat rhythm of her heart still pounding. “You almost gave me a heart-attack, I take it you need something?”

_“Yes, the bag to you took with you, you’ve also taken the spare solar chargers and the wire-saw.”_

Michael frowned, setting the Communicator down and peaked into her bag. “Why were they in there to start with? I thought I put them on the shelf.”

_“I moved them back because I planned to use them later. It slipped my mind to inform you.”_

Michael pursed her lips. “Look, I’m at your old camp site now. I’ll be a few hours. I’m sure you can live without them for the moment. What do you need a wire-saw for?”

There was a moment of pause. _“It’s better than using an axe.”_

The ominous answer made her roll her eyes. “Burnham out.” She snapped the communicator shut and turned her focus back to the tricorder. Dust lightly powdered it, though she felt a wave of relief to see it wasn’t damaged from being dropped. Michael ran another scan to check though all the signals were good, the scanners worked and…

She felt herself pause as she picked up another signature.

“What?” Michael ran it again but her earlier excitement disappearing fully, replacing now with a deep sense of uncertainty and alarm. Both the third of fourth scans were conclusive.

Vulcan bio-matter

Non-living, the decay rate showed about four weeks and from the placement, the remains were completely submerges under a vast amount of dry sand and stone.

Blindly, Michael reached for her communicator, swallowing thickly as she flicked it open.

“Captain…” She took a steady breath, “Were you _alone_ when you were beamed down?”

There was along moment before she heard the Vulcan pick up.

“ _Yes_.”

“Are you sure? No other Vulcans came down with you?”

 _“… Burnham, I don’t understand the question when I’ve made my answer perfectly clear_.” If it were possible, Michael could almost hear the sounds of exasperation.

“Never mind.”

She cut the line, dropping it off before she took a breath. A Vulcan body, four weeks old since death, it didn’t seem…right. She had been on this planet for about three weeks now. A week wasn’t a short amount of time for the captain to forget about another Vulcan. She knew where the camp was, the rocks were lighter than usual so removing it with her strength would be little effort, just tedious.

Why was T’Sol hiding a body?

Michael couldn’t think past the fact that…T’Sol was capable of killing. Now, that left her with the real possible thought of being trapped on this planet with a potential murderer. It could explain more to her odd behaviour but if she knew a body was buried here, she surely wouldn’t have given her the directions… so _why_?

Fingers dug into the mass of stone, pulling the largest away; piles of smaller pebbled going with it before she yanked it away, grabbing the next one

She had to find the truth. No matter how long she stayed here. The thought of returning made her queasy… returning to T’Sol could be a death sentence.

* * *

The stone soon became thinner the more she removed. Stone and sand alike now spreading over the surface, decorating her clothes, sticking to the sweat on her skin and she knew she was otherwise going to need to wash it out of her hair. She forced herself to stop a few times, to rehydrate and to snack on the few things she had brought before getting right back to it.

Now, Michael’s fingers clawed through sand, shoving it out and down, ignoring the pain as the sand grains caught in slight cuts; no doubt healing into her flesh but she forced herself to continue until she felt bigger rocks under her fingers, forcing her to slow down before she pushed them away.

Michael paused again as she saw a flash of blue, before the sand slide it out of sight. Immediately though, she shifted around to that particular area, fingers coming to dig into the area until she felt….something soft. Not like stone or sand, nor like a typical body. The blue was fabric; the colour she could tell was Starfleet uniform.

Slowly, her fingers came to gently follow the colour, brushing the sand away until she found herself looking at an arm… until a hand came into sight.

The flesh was still there, dried out and shrivelled and the sand was heavily incrusted into each dry crevice of the hand. The moister was gone, the sand looked to have been able to absorb and dry out the corpse; natural mummification. She could tell, given the heat, it wouldn’t have taken more than two weeks to complete its process.

A shoulder, chest, and other hand that lay across the abdomen… then the hair was steadily uncovered as she got higher. Exposing long, dark locks of hair, whitened by the sand though… she felt herself grow more nervous as she kept on with exhuming. In one sense, it was wrong to uncover a corpse like this. Morally, at least. She didn’t know what to expect.

Though it became clear the cause of death; the collapse had crushed the body over the chest and head. Even if the Vulcan had lived, the sand would have led to suffocation. The Vulcan has been too slow to get out or unaware of the loose infrastructure until last second. Laid on her back, facing up to the ceiling. Anyway, speculation didn’t change the results.

Gold lining on the uniform-jacket shoulders made her frown. The Vulcan had been a captain…..

Her eyes rose to the sand mass above, holding her breath a little as she scraped and brushed away the debris until she felt the dry skin, going softer with a sense of dread until…. Michael found herself staring at the half-exposed face of the Vulcan.

The air felt like it was suddenly gone from her lungs… her head feeling light but her stomach felt the worse…. Falling off the sand mound, Michael found the energy to crawl away before she felt herself wrench up all over the surface, the pale sand becoming blue and purple from her last meals…. But it didn’t burn the image of the body from her mind… confusion, horror and fear all clouding into one.

_The Mummy was Captain T’Sol._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe now the mystery continues. And don't worry, there's a reason why I've done it this way. I wanted to build up T'Sol a little more before ripping the band-aid off and letting this out. :) I know it's not all to your all expectation but there's hardly an exciting story to Michael being stranded alone on an alien world. There will be answers and you'll all get to see what happened and all so please hang in there and enjoy the mystery in the meantime :)
> 
> Please drop your thoughts on what you think T'Sol is anyway; I'd LOVE to hear your theory and where you'd think this might go.


	10. Proving a Point

Her stomach did settle. Eventually. The nausea stayed as well as the vice grip of uncertainty and confusion.

It didn’t make much sense, or logic. T’Sol was at the camp, making baskets and cooking food for dinner, how could she also be a mummified corpse under rubble? The one at the camp wasn’t a hallucination. No. Michael knew a hallucination didn’t weave _useable_ baskets. If it was all in her head, she would have dropped it all on her way; there wouldn’t be meals because they split their cooking between them. A hallucination wouldn’t be able to provide her information she didn’t already know. She didn’t know who the captain of the USS Utopia was….

What was T’Sol if she was long dead?

Michael didn’t know. But… she only assume that it was tied to how _she_ survived. The only viable answer was that _pit_. One she had actively avoided since waking up at the bottom of it. She had long since covered the opening with branches to avoid accidents….

If she had fallen and died there, was there something _in_ that water that….revived her? That, to her, was the logical assumption. Given she had woken up in there but still, she had to _test_ the theory. Again. If T’Sol was as real as her corpse, she had to bring her the proof. Going back empty handed with claims would only be…unwelcomed.

She had to take the body back.

Michael inhaled deeply, squashing the uncertain feel in her stomach as she pushed herself up and off the sandy ground and stepped back towards the cave entrance.

The body was still half covered. She couldn’t carry it back, not without damage… she’d have to make something. A sledge of sorts. For a moment, Michael was glad…. glad to have taken the wire-saw. Now she had the more useful tools. Her eyes rose back to the body, then to the cavern behind. She’d have to come back for the other things tomorrow. The priority’s had shifted now.

Feeling stronger, Michael pushed herself up to her feet, kicking sand over her little, regurgitated mess and knelt beside the mummy, her fingers washing over a thin layer of sand back over the body before she headed towards the trees. They were after all thinner than the ones at the bottom of the hill.

Useful.

* * *

Michael’s breath laboured heavily as she pulled, her muscles burning and her palms aching but she didn’t allow herself to stop.

It took a while to construct a basic frame and support. Using leaves to line over the inside branches, she used sand over that before she had re-dug the corpse from under the sand and dragged it onto the sledge with another layer of sand over the top to protect it from the twilight-sun and all other avenues of environmental decay.

Far from easy but she didn’t allow herself to stop. Ahead, now, she could make out the distant flickering light through the trees. The cooling air bristling at her skin but it began to feel good.

“Burnham?!” A sudden light suddenly appeared, boring into her from a much closer difference

Michael hissed, the light searing at her eyes, snapping her eyes shut and it took everything not to drop the branch-handles “What?” though after a second, the light dropped down.

“I said to be back earlier, I thought you got lost. Why didn’t you pick up?” T’Sol remarked, Communicator in hand as she drifted closer. The light shone down past her to her sledge. “What’s that?”

“Help me take it to the pit, then we can talk” Michael kept her tone level, though looking at the Vulcan in front, she felt…confused. Confused because this woman was somehow, in two places right in front of her. Right now. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t use her help before she dropped the facts to her. If the pit could bring her back after her fall, she could use the pit again, bring T’Sol back for the answers.

T’Sol’s eyes narrowed, uncertainly lacing into her posture and expression but nodded with some…interest. Slipping the light and the communicator on top of the sand, the Vulcan picked up it up at the bottom two ends of the frame, immediately lifting the burden of strain.

Definitely _not_ a hallucination.

Michael kept quiet though as they walked, feeling the stare linger just as much as the silent questions that bubbled away. Her eyes stayed ahead nonetheless. It wasn’t too dark she couldn’t see now, but it was significantly harder as the stone seemed to blend in quite well to the surroundings but the clean stone was easier to track by feeling the subtle changes of patterns under her boots. The pit sector stood out, mostly to the close break of trees and the large covered opening was hard to miss.

But even getting near it, she could feel the ebbs of discomfort that returned again. Her heat beat increased, she could feel a new flush of sweat coat her skin, her mouth ran dry and her grip tightened. Michael swallowed thickly, her breathing picking up a fraction but she tried to push the feelings away.

Slowing down, Michael gently lowered her end of the stretcher down and knelt to the floor, carefully edging to the branches covering the pit and began to pull them away. Each branch away, she felt a panic run through her veins. Opening up the pit felt wrong. That she could fall down it again… it made the nausea return.

“What is this?!” T’Sol’s voice changed. From collected to a harsh confused; a demand.

Michael stole a glance to see the Vulcan brushing through the sand, exposing now the boots of the corpse, but her attention ed fixed, pushing away the layers.

“Captain,” Michael swallowed, rolling from the edge back towards them, allowing her focus to chance. Though she grabbed the woman’s wrists as she went to clean away the top section of the sand. “Captain, tell me, how did you escape the cave in of your camp?”

T’Sol’s eyes rose, her eyebrows pulling in. “Excuse me?”

“Your camp. You were there when it collapsed, yes?”

“…yes.”

Michael nodded, “So how did you escape the cave in?”

T’Sol’s eyes narrowed but it didn’t remove the hint of confusion that laced within those dark brown eyes. She didn’t speak.

“So, from what I can tell by my scans, the cave-in happened four weeks ago. _I_ arrived here three weeks ago. Where were you in the seven days _after_ the cave in?”

The expression didn’t shift on the Vulcan’s face. “No, the cave in happened the same day you arrived.” T’Sol responded with, her tone tighter, as if trying to convince her to drop it

“Or you simply have no memory of it. Your…appearance when we first met was more pristine than I would have expected for a Vulcan that would have been trapped here 4 months before.” Michael continued, despite her fear of the pit, she did feel more confident as she spoke. “You also don’t seem to remember disappearing on me every night… but I think it does have something to do with this planet. I don’t know how but I will find it out.”

T’Sol’s expression stayed fixed but she moved with a sense of urgency, slipping her hands free and brushed away the sand until… the face of the mummy came into view. The woman’s posture freezing up.

Michael watched her, slinging her bag off before she dug out her tricorder. One way to see what this other T’Sol was….

“I don’t…understand.” T’Sol breathed out, “This cannot be me. I’m _real_.”

“Discovery never picked up your life-sign on the planet during the scans. You _died_ that night, T’Sol. Just Like I did.” Not that she was buried alive. “You didn’t resurface until after I came back. But…. These scans, there’s no Vulcan bio-sign coming off of you.” On the screen though, it was lit with…distortions. A wide energy fluxes were making it hard to get a simple reading but there was a…mass and pulsing heat signature from it. Nothing more distinguishable. “You’re not a ghost, you’re too tangible for that… perhaps a…reconstruction of your consciousness held inside a…type of energy mass. _Very_ similar to the energy fields being emitted from the pit.”

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but it certainly did peak the scientist within her. Something beyond making food and furniture.

“No.” T’Sol jumped to her feet. “No. I can’t be dead. I _feel_ real.” She shook her head. “I _cannot_ be dead.”

Michael’s eyes rose to the Vulcan. “Here, see if I’m wrong.” She held the Tricorder out though the Vulcan yanked it quickly from her hands, immediately restarting scans on herself quickly but the captain shook her head as soon as the results appeared. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Then don’t try to see the logic being the facts, Captain. You died a month ago in your shelter. You appeared a week later after I died on this planet. You’re… not aware of anything more because for some reason, it was only after I died that you appeared. I don’t understand why but I believe that it’s something to do with this planet.”

T’Sol dropped the tricorder off to the side roughly, shaking her head. “Resurrecting the dead it not possible. Freshly dead, perhaps through medical breakthrough…. If my body is there and a month passed, I _cannot_ exist here. Something is wrong!” T’Sol shook her head again, her hands coming to her hips, pacing quickly around the edge of the pit. “Logically, perhaps neither of us is real. Humans do have a concept of an afterlife or perhaps a dream-state as a result of drying brain activity.”

“Both of us?”

T’Sol gave her a stony look. “There is no logic in jumping to vivid conclusions.”

“Your mummified corpse is right next to you and you’re in complete denial about being dead.” Michael dryly pointed out but she couldn’t help but feel frustrated. She didn’t know why but she expected more of a reaction from the woman. Something more. “I know I died, T’Sol. I remember holding the rope, feeling the burn in my palms from the grip, the strain in my muscles and the smell of my own sweat…. I remember feeling the fall, seeing my captain’s face… then there was nothing. Pain came after I woke.”

“Human brains can invent a narrative to things that cannot comprehend. You fell, hit your head and had a dream about falling to your death, it’s _not_ that hard to comprehend.” T’Sol remarked back.

Michael’s eyes narrowed but she found herself moving forwards, not quite resisting her own fear as anger swallowed it all…. “How about _you_ experience it first hand and tell me if it’s all a dream, _Captain_.”

She didn’t know why she did it, nor what it would achieve; it only took a quick shove to send the captain back, the woman’s heel clipping on the pit ledge before gravity and physics took over, the Vulcan disappearing over the edge with a startled sound… and for a second, Michael felt mortified… horrified at the gesture alone that was so out of her usual character, the fact that she had willingly done this on a flash of anger… the fact that they were now screwed; she didn’t want to be alone.

The Vulcan fell out of sight. Her yelp disappearing quickly.

_There was no splash._

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest…. Craning her hearing but…there was just silence. No sound, no water movement…

Nothing.

“T’Sol?” Michael breathed out, tilting forwards but the reality had her falling back away from the edge…. Her breathing coming out in short pants….

God, what had she _done_?

* * *

The feeling like she had killed someone didn’t leave. At all. Let alone the fact that it was her _only_ company. A part of her hoped the mirage of the Vulcan would reappear, probably as narky as a Vulcan could get but she didn’t. No one came and it made the feeling so much worse…

Michael wanted to leave the pit edge too. But she couldn’t bring herself to, even as the exhaustion caught up with her, the hunger too. But she couldn’t.

Her reality was now this; alone with a Vulcan’s mummified corpse on a planet that was weirdly specific in term s of how it handled the deceased. Of course, now her own work load was doubled, but it wasn’t like she was short of things to work with. She had food, water and shelter. But alone? No. She didn’t like that. Alone with herself, alone with her thoughts… it was like prison time all over again, only new, she had another problem to mull about now.

She had to fix this.

Swallowing down the turmoil of emotions. Michael forced herself to move. She had to see if the put would work. T’Sol’s corpse would need to be submerged. Dropping her down… it’d get her down but at their height and fragile nature- there would be _something_ snapping off on impact to the water surface. She needed to lower her down. There was no way in hell she could drag her to that cave exit like this, not at this time and not when the gap was small for something so stiff.

Using the light, she found her way back at the house, throwing more wood onto the fire, and picked up the other lights. Michael was pleased to find her rope still tied up, grabbing that and a mashed bowl of root-potato and headed back.

Soon, the pit area was lit up far more effectively, the dark now officially closed in and the cold pricked at her skin but she didn’t hesitate to get to work. Shaking off the unnecessary weight of sand. She fixed the rope under the corpse’s arms, and over the chest. There was weakness in the top arm but the shoulder would support the dead weight. With a sharp gesture, Michael stabbed the fusion anchor into the stone, trying her best to ignore how dark the pit was before she began threading the rope end through it and tied the end off with a stick, winding it up quickly.

Her fingers carefully retuned to slip under T’Sol’s arm pits, keeping the pull tight on the supporting rope as she gently shifted it towards the edge of the opening, feet first. The stiffness working in favour to add a little balance of surface area as the boots scrapped along the stone surface.

“Ignore the edge.” Michael whispered to herself, loosening herself as she the weight was balanced between the edge and the rope. Gently moving back, letting go of the mummy before she took a firm hold of the wound-up rope, planting her heels into the lip edge for support, she began to steadily let the rope go.

T’Sol’s form disappearing over and into the dark…..

It took a few minutes before she heard the sound of water moving letting go of the rope fully. Biting back her feelings to grab one of the resting lights and crawl over the edge, shining the light to see the rope floating and bubbles of air rising to the surface, nothing more. The weight in the body too dense to float….

But there was nothing. The water looked the same, there was…no lights or anything…

Would this even _work_?

* * *

Her steps echoed as she walked, the light streaming from her vest she crawled her way through the dark cavern. Her breath came out in short pants and her body ached but she stil forced herself to keep moving.

Since dropping T’Sol down, there had been nothing for hours, even as the night passed, until the water got hotter.

Michael hadn’t conceived that it would have been something that would take a _while_. She hadn’t realised it. But it did make sense. Logically. Undoing the effects on her, _she_ was freshly dead so it wouldn’t have taken so long. T’Sol was _mummified_ ; dried out and no doubt had a lot longer to rehydrate and renew a lot of the flesh. If there was some sentient mind behind all of this, she would love to hear all about it.

The low sound of bubbling began to echo towards. Her head rose but it made her step faster, the heat suddenly feeling immense. It tickled over her skin like it was fire but it lit her with excitement; something was happening.

The mutineer felt the heat get hotter and she could feel the sweat once again bead over her flesh but she sighed out as the cavern chamber came into view once again. Familiar but…dimmer than she remembered. All her senses had been…out of order. She couldn’t deny the beauty of it. The inside stone formation of the red stone lines against the chalky white looked….unusual for a naturally occurring. The plants were expected, and looked to have grown throughout the cave system. Abundance of moss coated around.

The morning light shone down through the entrance above, water bubbled as if boiled, steam was settling above it like dry ice, that broke and weaved over its surface as the bubbles under popped, exposing the brief moments of water underneath. It felt…odd to observe it. But she felt the sense of familiarity, the water looked hotter than it was, the feel of…strength that being _in_ it felt like. Even as disorientated as she had been; it wasn’t something she could… _fully_ recall. She remembered struggling to get to the surface; the need to _breathe_ … the panic that fuelled and adrenaline rush to get her going. Kicked her into action.

Her eyes continued to observe, knees bending until she felt the soft mossy floor against them and settled down.

Waiting.

* * *

The surface broke. Startling Michael from her doze to immediate alertness as water splash and slapped around, a gasp for air echoing in the chamber, water frothed but Michael watched as T’Sol’s arm spun widely her head tilted back, mouth open but eyes closed as she fought the water for breath.

Acting on instinct, Michael dove forwards into the chamber; the hot water suddenly submerging all around her, wiping away the previous tiredness and aches that had lingered within them. It only took a few strokes before she reached the Vulcan, the woman’s arms immediately latching onto her, pushing her down to keep herself up but Michael resisted the woman’s attempts, grapping her wrists.

“Calm down!” She called, half-swallowing the water as it shot into her mouth, gagging a little but the Vulcan didn’t seem to hear her, pulling her wrists free but accidently kicked away. It took a sharp breath before Michael used the rope attached around the woman to help to pull her with her, going under the surface until she felt the bottom of the pool; kicking off that to push her along back towards the ledge. Hindered by the weight but she felt the struggle weaken a fraction.

“Come one… stay with me…” Her fingers clawed to the side, wedging her foot into a crack in the ledge support to keep her balance. Michael pulled on the rope, pulling the captain towards her.

The Vulcan gurgled on the water, slipping under but Michael pulled it faster, her fingers just about grabbing onto the woman’s uniform before pulling her back against her, the woman’s head lolling against her shoulder, her mouth falling open. She couldn’t breathe….

Michael wrapped her arms over her, she placed her fist against the woman’s diaphragm and using her other hand to curl over it, have over forced her weight into a pushing force inwards and upwards against her abdomen.

Immediately, the captain’ body jerked, water was the first to come up but not everything. Michael forced a second one, dark sludge suddenly expelling passed her lips…

“Come on…breathe.” She whispered, but on the fifth and last one, the Vulcan coughed and spluttered, before wrenching up. Michael almost gagged to see the amount of dirt and sand that deposited into the water, washing away the moment the water splashed over it, cleaning it all way.

It almost made her feel nauseous but the fact that the Vulcan was breathing, was enough. She could feel each breath the woman took, the fast heartbeat against her palm over her side; the woman’s face was flushed with green and her eyes were closed, the lack of resistance said enough; the Vulcan was out of it, just as she had been after too…

Getting her back to the house would be a challenge… but not impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on doing this a little longer but.... I felt like I had broken it up a good few times already. It started to feel a little rushed so i thought to best stop here and post it already. 
> 
> Again, the answers are gonna come :) Just keep sticking with it :) 
> 
> feel free to drop some love and your comments, on what you think on what you like and what i could improve on :)


	11. Rage

Michael did her best to keep the camp going as the hours ticked by. T’Sol was otherwise out to the world in their bed. She had been forced to strip it down and clean it after the Vulcan had regurgitated up the rest of her stomach’s content which hadn’t…looked to have been rejuvenated along with the woman’s body. Far from fresh and sand particles had made it down there too, not just in her lungs.

The room was warm, she kept it hot to help the woman’s body accurate to a comfortable Vulcan-like temperature and she had done her best to keep her hydrated. She was far from a medical officer but she did her best under unusual circumstances.

Food was cooked, and she had eaten but Michael knew she’d have to wait until the Vulcan was up to be able to eat comfortably. What state of _mind_ … she wasn’t entirely looking forwards to. She had it coming though. She did push her down there. Assuming _this_ T’Sol had any of her deceased-ghost memories…

Michael’s attention turned as she heard a soft rattling from outside. The pot. She sighed softly. Rising to her feet, she padded out and replaced the door back over to the fire. Over that sat a large pot, the pot lid rattling as water boiled passed the rim, dripping down and hissing as the fire licked at it.

Using wooden tongs resting beside the log seats, she grasped the edges of the pot and lifted it from its place, though its weight suddenly pulled down— Michael just about managing to keep it from going all the way before gently resting it down onto the smooth stone surface underneath. The lid however slipped and hit the surface, cracking in half.

“Damn.” Michael hissed out softly. Ah, well… she could fix that later. She turned her focus towards the content, the boiling water a mixture of blue and brown and white. Hot steam wisped off its surface and it was near frothing; clear warning she was not to go near it without gloves.

Wiping the soot from the end, she allowed it to clean off fully in the hot water before she dipped it further in and clamped the end to pull out the soggy blue jacket, water immediately splashing down and all over the stone. The weight of the hot, soggy jacket threatened to pull it from the tongs but Michael quickly guided it onto the temporary washing line

She had taken off the Vulcan’s old clothes since coming back; it had been blood-stained and needed a very good clean… she couldn’t get rid of the blood green stains in the vest but the mud and sand she could. Boiling it was the only way they could keep their clothes cleaner.

Michael stretched out the jacket, careful though she felt the hot material singe at her flesh as she adjusted it out along the line.

“Damn..” She withdrew her hand quickly. She’d leave it at that. She could adjust it further once it cooled off.

Her hands drifted over to the blue pants that sat on the line, fingers touching over the material; the sun had done its job. It was warm but dry. A bonus. Michal lifted it gently from the line and padded back to the house.

“Okay, Captain, if you’ll excuse me like last time, I’ll put your pants back on. “ Michael spoke out loud, slipping through the door and put it back through the captain was still out cold on the bed. “I hope your kit at your camp has more clothing we can use than just our only set we have on us. I’ll be nice not having to do this.” She dropped the pants off to the side. “Please don’t kick me.”

She quickly lifted up the woman’s blanket and gently began to redress her lower half, struggling at her waist though she was glad to finally get the button done up before tugging the blanket back down.

Side note, Michael was glad not to have been kicked, but she couldn’t help but be concerned about the woman’s lack of responses. It had been much longer than hers If her estimates were anything of note. Of course, she could put that down to recovering from the initial resurrection or… her Vulcan physiology was kicking in and she had fallen into a healing trance. Lots of variables. The woman _had_ been dead much longer.

A yawn pushed passed her lips as she stepped back.

Work to do.

* * *

Michael had been dozing on the floor beside the fire before she heard a low groan, almost immediately, her senses were back on alert through the slight sluggishness of exhaustion. On the bed, movement caught her attention.

T’Sol’s breathing began rapidly…. Her mouth falling open; sucking the air in heavily before she gagged, her body kicking action, rolling off the bed and getting tangled in the blanket before she even hit the floor before she threw up… her eyes screwed shut, a sheen of sweat glistening over her skin though her face was suddenly creased with emotion she had never seen before on the Vulcan’s face…

“Wha…” T’Sol almost choked on her words, her voice weak and strained though her eyes shot open, her hand brushing over her throat shakily, slipping to her side to feel her heartbeat against her lower ribs…. Though she shied from the firelight, blinking furiously.

“Captain T’Sol, it’s okay!” Michael started though the Vulcan groaned out, her hands moving to cover her pointed ear, shying away from the sounds too. Michael forced herself to pause to allow the woman to adjust. She remembered that, the sensory overload; the sounds that were deafening, the light that felt like she was staring into a light bulb… it was probably worse given Vulcan’s had better hearing.

T’Sol’s breath continued to rage, as if she had run for miles and miles without stopping, barely supporting herself up with her arm; her body trembling with what she could assume was a real shot of adrenaline.

“Wha..” T’Sol tried again, “What….did….you do?” She wheezed, almost gagging again. Her face flushing a darker shade of green. “What… why…did you push me?”

“Captain, you need to breathe, take a drink and let the nausea pass.” Michael started, rising to her feet slowly as the Vulcan peered up to her with squinted eyes, a clear indication her inner-eye lids wasn’t quite functioning with the rest of her. Out of sync.

Michael quickly grabbed a pot from the side, filling it up with fresh water before holding it out. T’Sol eyed her wearily before she grabbed it, drinking it down quickly, almost throwing it back up but she stiffened up, forcing herself to breath slower.

Michael stayed still though, her eyes careful watching. Counting the seconds in her head before the Vulcan began to calm herself down. Inhaling softly, holding out the pot for more water. She obeyed without question, each mouthful relaxing her as much as it did T’Sol until finally, the woman slumped back.

“Get me some food.”

Michael reached off to the side table-log. Where there were a few blueapples and melon slices with a mixture of another root veg that she had boiled to soften. T’Sol didn’t try to use cutlery—which in itself did strike an odd chord with Michael—she knew Vulcans didn’t eat with their fingers like this. T’Sol was careless and it was clear the intention was the simply consume quickly as she picked up on and bite straight though it rapidly until the pip was left, tossing it off to the side before going for the next. Culture influence need-not-apply.

Michael withheld her comment. It was not the time though she could see perhaps there was more the psychology of it. Was her years of training wiped away or….not yet resurfaced? Michael knew though if that was the case, she had to tread very carefully.

She was not stronger than an angry, range-induced Vulcan. Her eyes flickered to the door. Taking note of how to clear it… and her escape routes.

She knew where to go if this went south. She knew she had left her Swiss knife at the other camp. She’d survive there is she left T’Sol here…. If it came down to it. Neither of them had ventured further from their respective camps so T’Sol would be just as unfamiliar. She could bet on that for her survival.

After finishing, T’Sol dropped the wooden plate off to the side though she reached up to grasp at the bed’s ledge, coming to try and heave herself up though she swayed heavily; her balance unstable though she lent her weight forwards against it.

Michael rose to her feet too, her knees bent a fraction.

“You pushed me.”

“I did.” Michael confirmed, “but it was an impulsive act on my part. I am sorry for that.”

T’Sol’s eyes remained narrowed though she pursed her lips. “Why did you do this?”

Michael’s head tilted a fraction. “Save you?”

T’Sol nodded. “You…pushed me off the well edge. You didn’t need to make it worse.”

“You didn’t believe me when I told you.” Michael pointed out softly, “But the facts were there. Your….katra, I can assume, was built up to be tangible through some form of energy that’s being generated by the planet. It’s why our scanners can’t work down there or on your previous form. You still have your memories so that…saves me a lot of explaining since your death but… I know how hard it is.”

T’Sol’s jaw clenched, her head shaking. “No you don’t….. you have no idea what you’ve _done_.” her voice turned into a near growl, her eyes turning into a piercing glare. “Every lesson, every suppression of my emotions have been torn away. My Biology renewed to that simplistic level…. I went through Kolinahr—” Her jaw snapped shut, eyes took as she took a deep breath; trying to reel all the feelings back….

Michael tenses further.

“You had no right to do that!” T’Sol’s anger grew, her hands clenched until her knuckles turned white against the ledge. “You should have just left me there….”

“Captain…” Michael inhaled deeply, “I did what I felt was right. What else did you expect me to do? Bury you? Pretend that…everything was fine. That you were really you? Death… it might have changed me but in all honesty… I don’t have anyone on this planet to compare me before the fall to the me now. I’m _literally_ dead to them.

“ _We’re_ dead to them.” T’Sol corrected gruffly. “I shouldn’t be here. Dead do not come back.”

“Then I’m sure we can figure out what happened to us both in that pit. It’s the only other thing we both have in common here. I was a science officer and you’re a captain. We’ll get through this.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. I’m… I can’t. Not with you.” T’Sol’s anger returned. “Just the _sight_ of you….” Her fingers tightened. “You started this… I _can’t_ —” In a twirl, T’Sol spun around, kicking her frustration into the long—sending it straight into the wall.

Michael flinched away.

“Get out.”

“Capt—”

“I SAID _GET OUT!_ ” T’Sol didn’t even wait before she picked up the bowl before she threw it hard.

Michael immediately jumped into action, dodging the pottery though she felt it shatter behind her. But she saw the Captain go for the _axe_ on impulse that she knew she had to run. Shoving the door from her way, Michael didn’t hesitate to shoot through it—distantly hearing a clatter of either the axe being thrown or the compromised Vulcan falling but she didn’t stop to see which of those it was. Snagging the captain’s jacket that was still drying and burst through the tree line…the feel of the earth _pounding_ against the soles of her boots…

* * *

Her heart fluttering in her chest, her lungs feeling like they had swollen… but she hadn’t stopped running for a while until she was clambering up the sandy mounds, the moon offering little light but she hoped her memory had served her well to get her to the correct place.

It had.

Michael could tell the shapes of the view as she felt the floor become less even, the sand she had kicked off and moved was the easy tell-signs. Despite her better judgement, Michael felt her way back into the cave entrance, the sand now cooling but there were no further indications of a further cave in so she took her chanced.

Either be buried alive but have some kit to help get her through that or risk hypothermia on the mountainside without it or worse, meet a violent, emotionally charged Vulcan she had essentially set on herself. Michael knew her options. She’d take her risks on the cave. It had after all been home to the Vulcan for over three months.

Feeling her away in, Michael slipped into the furthest corner away from the entrance—hoping that nothing would come for her while she slept.

* * *

Nothing did, but it was the light that woke her up. It shone through the cracks in the wall though she was glad for it. Her body ached and twinges; the morning heat seemed to make all the difference than her burned out, slightly pathetic excuse for a fire. Michael was more than happy to crawl about to find her baring’s.

Her stomach grumbled, her mouth felt dry…. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Crap. She licked her lips, allowing her eyes to spin about. Taking in the inside now.

The vast interior space was otherwise occupied with sand, Michael could see a few shapes and mounts that didn’t look normal so she pushed herself ahead to start digging. Brushing sand and rocks away until fingers sound the smooth edges of a box. It felt like a small reward given…well, _everything_.

It took a while to fully dig it out and drag it outside but opening it, she was met with a glorious sight of a far more advanced survival kit. Tent, sleeping bag, a solar-powered torch, even a machete was there with knotted up lengths of ropes, string and even a new phaser were sat amongst what she hoped were blankets and a possible change of clothes and standard little bits she had in her original kit. She could clearly see the nanofiber thermal jacket folded down at the bottom. 

Thought the victory felt empty, the necessity of the fact now that she needed this. She _needed_ supplies to survive. T’Sol had everything she’d need too. A shelter, food, tools and her old kit. She had nothing now. They were even.

Michael sighed out, pulling out the flattened bag and began to fill it with the box’s content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Micheal did bring this on herself lol. 
> 
> hehe plus I figured if everything was going get iffy between them, it'd be bc of that. Though My mind is going to the fact that... Pon Farr might be coming so T'Sol might go through that as a result of this whole renewal. If she and Michael 'do' anything, I don't think it'll be anything more than that for the sake of T'Sol's wellbeing ( I could do this smutty bit on a separate thing and keep the tag as it is or add it and change the tag to Explicit) not sure yet.


	12. Wandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god, this chapter took forever! I had some muse difficulty so i had to change my pacing. 
> 
> There will be mentions of injury in a little detail, just some warning now so i'd advise caution if you don't like that

Michael sat hunched under a large leaf that acted as her shelter along with a collection of overhead fallen trees, arms around herself with a bottle wedged between her boots with a leaf acting as a funnel. All around her, the rain fell almost torrential and brought a spout of coldness to this otherwise boiling planet. Other receptacles were filled and overflowing though she drank the water as it came, sating the thirst she hadn’t been able to sate in a while.

Since her forced leaving, Michael hadn’t been able to find a good water source to draw from which had gotten harder for her to travel. A small puddle here and there had sustained her, as well as fruit over the last week but she hadn’t dared venture back to her old camp, nor the captain's one either

Of course, she hadn’t been dependant on the Vulcan but things had gotten harder, water aside. The lack of company was starting to grait on her. At least in prison or a ship, she could have had a form of social conduct, someone to listen to even if she wasn’t the one talking. This was lonely and she had most definitely brought it on herself.

Michael exhaled heavily, her thumb washing over the back of the golden badge in her hand, tracing each letter of Georgiou’s name. What would Philippa think of her now?

Well, she had already committed mutiny, pushing a captain into an 80-foot drop pit probably wouldn’t have been much of a stretch of the imagination. Her captain wouldn’t have been surprised if she knew no doubt. She could almost imagine the look on her face, the disapproval that would have made her bury herself alive to never see it again.

Of course, given the fact they were _both_ already _dead_ women, it seemed unlikely the federation would charge her with attempted murder if they found out. Was it even possible for her to die again? Her body still had needs, such as hunger and thirst…breathing too. T’Sol _had_ almost suffocated on the sand that had gotten into her stomach and lung. If she hadn’t been there, would she had suffocated, died and then come back again? That didn’t sound like a good cycle that had an end.

Michael inhaled heavily, fingers tightening around the metal badge before she tucked it into her bra again for safekeeping before she reached for the bottle, grabbing the lid and tightened it before shoving it back into her bag. 

_Prison_ was preferable to this. Not just in the company of another person but she there wouldn’t be forced to hunt for her next meal or next drink of water on a daily basis, nor make a fire and maintain it throughout the night to keep unwelcomed guests out of a temporary shelter. She couldn’t see this ending any time soon; this was her future. Daunting. At least in prison, she knew what to expect. Work then her cell until death; by natural causes or…not.

 _This_ was her prison now. Looked like a paradise but…was far from it when they had nothing but emergency supplies. This was probably what she deserved though; with everything. The war and now what she had done with T’Sol…

The rain continued to downpour though Michael felt an ebb of relief to see the rain shift to something less dramatic and then eventually into a small, less concerning fine sprinkle. She could work with that.

Slipping the jacket tighter over her shoulders and then the bag, Michael slipped out of her little shelter spot, sipping down one of her make-shift ups on the side until it was gone and her belly felt otherwise filled with much-needed water before she pressed on to the newly rejuvenated jungle.

But as she walked, it became clear that any walking became _squelching_ ; each step brought a spout of mud that kept shifting under her boots, shaking her balance; though she began to feel it was like Russian roulette; one step would lead her to fall on her ass and getting _those_ stains out would be hell.

Michael led the way down a short decline, having noticed a promising area for proper shelter, another cave system that had the possible chance of a water system too now it had rained enough for a down-flow to be shown. Water always flowed down to somewhere; most likely to a bigger water source. All she had to do now, was follow the signs. Perhaps then she could settle down for her new camp.

One step down, her heel dislodged as the dirt suddenly broke under her weight in motion, her boot skidding and her balance was immediately thrown, her hand instinctively coming grab onto a near vine harshly but it suddenly pulled down with her—despite the hard fall and soft landing, Michael suddenly realised _what_ she had grabbed onto something warm and _living_.

Pain suddenly shot through her leg, but even she could feel the teeth before reaction caught up, wrenching the snake-like creature away from her by neck and for an impulse reason, slammed its head straight into the rocky side next to her; vaguely feeling its neck crack but the pain continued…

Though the fabric, she could see the red blood ooze into the blue, muddy fabric, her fingers dropped the snake, though her hands came to her thigh as a burning sensation running under the skin…

“Ah…” Michael hissed out though she groaned as she felt a wave of nausea wash through her….not good. Not good at all. If the effects were kicking in this quick… this was a _venomous_ creature… and she was an alien to it; it could kill her…

Her hands clawed at her shoulder strap, tugging her bag from her shoulders though she didn’t hesitate to yank it open, suddenly not finding a care as the content began to spill out over the mud though she found the medical kit, forgoing the rest of it in its favour before she plucked the thing open, the mud of her fingers spreading over its pristine surface though she found the hypo-spray and began to look through the cartridges. Anti-venom…. Anti-venom…. _Something_..

Her head spun and she felt the dryness return to her mouth but she fought the urge to stop and take a drink, she could see a mild shaking start in her hands but her fingers curled around what she could see was anti-body cartridge; _it’d have to do_. She didn’t hesitate to shove it into the spray before jabbing it into her leg.

She swapped out the cartridge for a painkiller as well before she lay back… her heartbeat thumping in her chest much quicker

* * *

The pain did die but didn’t disappear though Michael had been forced to move as the rain picked up, again, though she found herself getting confused;

To where her bag had gone….and her jacket. Everything started to look the same and…she knew something was wrong…concentration seemed too far away to try and figure out where she was going; she just knew she had to keep going at this point.

Each step hurt, flaring through the medication every time weight was put onto the limb… Her fingers curled around a branch though, but she dully felt the ground shake as the quake hit…keeping herself going despite this.

Had to keep going.

A hot flush ran through her body, making her shiver as the cold rain splashed against her skin, though it felt pleasant against her bare shoulders, water soaking into her vest quickly; keeping the coolness against her flesh

_Thung!_

Michael flinched away as something suddenly impaled through the rain-sodded grass….

_Three feet away._

“Not…not good.”

She didn’t like that. Too close for comfort…she needed to get to a shelter…

“Ow…” A soft grumble rose from her lips as she stumbled, forcing her weight back down onto her bad leg. “So rude…” She eyed the vine laying over the grass; one that had snaked a little over her soggy boots…

“No…no stop.” She shook her head, her head spinning almost immediately though she felt the pain prickle more… the skin felt _burning_ under her pants… she didn’t like that. The pressure hurt.

As she walked her hands came to her waistband. Digging into the fabric before she began to push it down her hips though she felt a sudden sense of relief as the fabric was gone from around her leg though she felt her nausea return pull throttle as she saw the state of the bite.

Two punters were embedded in the flesh; it had healed over since then with thin layer of skin but the flesh had swollen since then, the two punctures now tight with dark red bubbles of blood that was contaminated with the milky colour of pus under the skin. The rest around was inflamed and tight and it _hot_ …

It almost made her throw up…

The water droplets splashed down, stinging but its cool different had a fraction of a second of goodness to it so she pushed the fabric right down….until her boots became a problem, so she kicked them off and stripped them right away.

Pants free, the coolness of the rain dripped down her bare skin though she felt a slither of reward to see water not too far ahead passed the growing haze in her vision. A small lake?

She had made it…

Michael stumbled towards it, gasping sharply as pain shot up through the bone and finally, the nausea won out, throwing up into the grass before she finally passed out…unaware she had fallen into the water….

* * *

T’Sol grunted softly as she landed on the balls of her feet, her heart pounding in her abdomen as she found a new lead from her camp and immediately began to head down it.

It getting further and further out from even her old camp in the hills, down to lower sections of the land. Over a week since she had last seem her human companion, she hadn’t tried to track her until the other day; when she felt able to tolerate anything.

She still felt horrible, her emotions were far from being sealed but she had managed to mediate enough to get her mental shields up to contain the most volatile aspects of it. Forcing her to balance logic and emotion as equals weren’t easy, but now, the reality was she knew she needed help to keep their survival optimal. She didn’t have to like Burnham for what she did but Burnham was the only company she was going to get.

Logic dictated their survival was optimal together.

T’Sol could easily remember what it was like before, spending those weeks alone; doing all of this alone… Usually, a Vulcan didn’t mind being alone, thrived on it really but _lonely_ was another matter when it was forced for long periods of time. She was a captain of the USS Utopia that was lost with all hands, apart from her own. With her emotions, she had been forced to grieve those losses, _her_ loses. As the humans say, ‘captains go down with their ship’, it would have been fitting. An honourable death; a captain was _always_ last to leave; to ensure their crew's evacuation, not the first to go. It was the captain’s responsibility.

She was still a captain and Burnham was…not. But the human woman had _been_ an officer, acting as if they were possibly still on a ship; T’Sol didn’t mind that because it had been a nice change to keep a familiar routine. Like it or not, Burnham was her responsibility. T’Sol had to make sure the woman didn’t get herself hurt, or worse, _killed_ again.

Though she couldn’t deny, Burnham had done incredibly well to stay away…and hidden. No doubt not settling for too long in one space; either to escape a predator, her or was simply moving to keep looking for a water source; so far she hadn’t seen much which made her more concerned. Human bodies needed more water than a Vulcan’s.

“Where are you…?” T’Sol muttered.

* * *

It took another hour before T’Sol was able to find a fresh hint of Burnham’s presence. She was just entering an unexplored region of untouched, former drainage fissures; the land was broken down into a few levels, creating a walkable pathway down a valley where she could just about pick up the sounds of running water.

A stream, perhaps. It had rained a lot earlier today; it was logical sense Burnham would have used it for a temporary water source; the only one on hand.

T’Sol began to follow it down, her pace slowing as her boots were met with immediate slick, slippery mud. It moved under her so she knew the chance of slipping were incredibly high. Keeping her eyes out, T’Sol carefully gripped at the side as she went, careful not to put her hand in a deep crevis or on something sharp but it helped keep her stable.

Finger marks already in the wall did show small fingers had already done so and disrupted mud patterns showed tracks.

The Vulcan continued her decent though she couldn’t help but notice as the finger patterns abruptly scored down the surface; an indication that Burnham had slipped. T’Sol careful stepped from the skid mark though she leant forwards and froze.

Ahead, a bag was open and its content was strewn across the valley pathway, most were boxes that were shut; the medkit was open and the wind tickled at the inside bandages small bottles looked to have been carelessly removed as well as a hypospray. A water bottle stuck up in a deeper patch of mud though no sign of the woman with it.

That didn’t look like a good omen.

“Burnham?!” She called out, though her eyes flickered, bending down to close the kits, shoving it back into one bag for now and began to follow the mess.

The trail became less and less purposeful, a boot….a pair of pants… a second boot—

A _splash_.

T’Sol’s head rose. Her heart thumping a little faster. “Michael!”

The mud squelched and threatened to trip her but she kept her balance even, following the sounds of water until she found herself running towards a small pond-like stream… and the human woman lying face-down in it.

“Burnham!” Her steps quickened as soon as her boots touched the stronger ground and drove into the water, her hands immediately pulling the human woman onto her back, her head out the water. “Michael!”

There was no reaction. Her fingers pressed to her throat, feeling a pulse; the vast heat of her flesh a concern but she had stopped breathing. With a soft tug, T’Sol pulled her back onto the surface, hands immediately starting to compress onto her chest but there was an immediate reaction as water spewed from her mouth; her lungs kicking into action, the air being sucked immediately into her lungs, heaving for it even though she remained unconscious.

That didn’t make her feel less concerned but with one immediate threat more or less dealt with, the next was up and about. Burnham’s flesh although cooled by the water was still too hot. Her face already flushed with a new level of sweat and her body shivered. T’Sol’s eyes caught to the cause on her thigh.

“Damn it…” Clearly, Burnham’s body was fighting the venom well but no doubt left her in a delusional state; she’d have to treat it herself. Releasing her bags were still on her, T’Sol shoved them off, coming to pull out the medkit she had had and doused it into the cool water, placing it over the angry infection to help cool it down before giving her another shot.

* * *

It took near to nightfall to get her back to the camp. The exhaustion pulling at her own body but she forced herself to continue, leaving Burnham on that damn makeshift sledge outside to allow the cooling night air, to help bring down her fever, T’Sol began to peel back the bandages. Groaning softly to see that the skin had split and the abbess inside was draining down her skin.

Venomous bites, if by a snake, weren’t typically drained. It was advised against to prevent further infections and damage to the skin but…given this wasn’t a typical bite; it may be necessary to get the infection out. She had to wash it out.

It was going to be a long night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, i knew that Micheal would undoubtedly get into trouble but i figured that there was no point pulling their separation too much; that was why i had trouble getting to this; the plot needs to get quicker so I will. 
> 
> Also, Since it's is Vulcan who's biology is more reset, there's a chance she may go into PonFarr as a result. Would anyone be against a smutty thing between them (strictly to help T'Sol--not as a permanent relationship bc Micheal and Philippa is gonna be endgame :) ) or would this be better in a side-fic for them? 
> 
> now, if people are wondering why Michael's been effected than suddenly healing then before, it's in part to the creature being part of the planet and the skin healed over after the bite; sealing the infection in.
> 
> as usual, drop a comment and some kudos :)


	13. Lingering thoughts

The fever continued for thirteen more hours before it broke from Burnham’s system and her vitals had also dropped where T’Sol thought the venom might have killed her but the soft pulse against her fingertips was the main flickers of life that remained in the woman’s body.

The bite had swollen further and the wound was weeping a lot so she was forced to change and wash the dressing every so often to keep it clean. But she wasn’t healing. T’Sol had noticed that small cuts vanished quickly and aching muscles didn’t last long herself but _this_ … this was different.

Something was different.

Logically, perhaps the…healing simply ran out after a certain amount of time but it seemed unlikely; she had already tested the theory with a small puncture to an unaffected part of Burnham’s leg which healed up.

But that didn’t take away from the fact something was still very wrong…even in the dim light of the morning, she could see the pale sheen to Burnham’s flesh and the cold sweat that glossed over her skin; there was nothing more she could do; the medical supplies weren’t low but there wasn’t the right medication she could give to help alleviate this. She could predict logically, Burnham’s immune system was on the verge of collapse without medical assistance…

Her hands drifted from the human back out to the camp…then vaguely down to the direction of the pit. Should she wait and let Burnham die before putting her down there; see if that fixed her up? Or would this…water act when she was still alive?

T’Sol’s head tilted. There was no other way to see than to test it.

“I’ll be back.”

Since Burnham’s absence and between meditations, food and cleaning, she had tried to…improve on the frame around the pit. Swinging an axe had all been useful to vent her….emotions without causing herself personal harm. Plenty of wood to work with to get a tripod stand around it. Enough that there would be no accidental falls yet able to…use it for study.

Using Burnham’s bottle and a rope looped around it, she kept it at least half full before tossing it down. The rope almost burning her hands in the drop but she kept a hold before she heard the vague echo of it hitting the surface; the weight and speed enough to plunge under the surface…then the rope stilled after a moment.

T’Sol tugged on the rope until the bottle peaked back into view. Filled almost to the top. Good. She departed back to Burnham with it before she examined the next course of action before option for both.

Her hand slipped under Burnham’s limp torso, her head lolling back but the Vulcan was careful to pour some of the water into her mouth; immediately getting a reaction as the water hit the back of the throat, causing the woman to act instinctively and cough but she thankfully swallowed some of it down. Enough to satisfy T’Sol before she pulled away the bandages from her leg for a new piece, dousing it first in the water before tying it around the weeping wound and sat back…

* * *

Burnham’s breathing eased up, after an hour but was able to drink the rest of the bottle before T’Sol felt confidant that the human’s hydration was acceptable. Colour had returned to the woman’s cheeks and the swollen flesh along Burnham’s leg had all but gone.

T’Sol’s fingers came to the bandages, gently prising the semi-damp cloth away to see—with surprise— that the infection was also nearly gone; there was a mild look of irritation and two very predominant looking puncture scars. Her fingers touched along it; the flesh warm but not worryingly heated. There was no reason to keep it covered now.

The Vulcan tossed it into the fire, allowing it to burn with the rest.

“Mmm..” Burnham groaned softly, her head rolling to the side before she shifted in her slumber to lay as such as well, her healing leg pulling up with the other.

A good sign.

So, with nothing left to do, she turned and sat close to the fire to meditate.

* * *

T’Sol had just begun to finish up when she heard breathing change…getting faster, a movement behind her…

“Mm…Philippa…”

T’Sol rose to her feet quickly and quickly caught Burnham by the shoulder as she sat up suddenly

“Stay down, you’ve been unwell.” She spoke sharply, drawing the human’s attention sharply, brown eyes widening before turning to her very startled then to her hands quickly though she could feel the warm pulse quicken under her fingertips. “I will not hurt you.”

“I think throwing the axe at me gave the wrong impression, Captain.” Burnham relaxed back if with resistance, licking her lips before her hand drifted down to her leg; trying to collect herself. “What happened?”

“You got bitten by a reptile. Possibly something akin to an earth snake. Highly likely a poisonous venom. Your body’s been fighting it for almost a day. You weren’t winning so I…use that water to see if it would work. It did.” T’Sol removed her hand and stepped away. “The axe is by the fire if you’re still curious about it” her tone dried up a fraction, even as Burnham glance at it before relaxing somewhat.

Of course, it had a well-balanced weight, strong handle and was in good range at the time. Clearly Burnham wasn’t going to let that go… not that it bothered her too much. It wasn’t necessary to bring up any further.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes, but it’s illogical to live apart and to argue on our past actions. Our survival will be easier together and our jobs can be divided to maintain a good lifestyle.”

There was silence for a long moment, broken by the sounds of the fire crackling. T’Sol tossed on another log onto it, the fires quickly taking its claim and lick a scorching flame up its exposed side; a gut feeling of… _similarity_ did wash through her but it was unimportant for now.

“Will we function as we did before?”

“I am not the same Vulcan as I was before. I’m…still attempting to suppress my emotions. There’s a lot still running through my system that will require time to sort through.”

Burnham’s gaze lingered on her face before she nodded, carefully sitting up. “I’m sorry.”

T’Sol nodded, accepting it nonetheless. It would be illogical to deny it when they could move on. It was done and they couldn’t change it. Burnham had learned not to do it again.

“We have a lot to do. We need to study how this is possible.” Gesturing to their bodies with her hand. “and perhaps we can find out more about the planet. We’re scientists and it would be…irresponsible for us to not gather data on the chance of a potential rescue. It would save them the time.”

Burnham’s eyebrows pulled in. “Do you really think they’ll come back for us?”

T’Sol considered her words, “It’s…unlikely but they’re far too occupied with the war to expend their resources. It could be months, perhaps even years before Starfleet comes to investigate the planet again. Our findings are going to be incredibly useful for them.”

Burnham nodded exhaling deeply, “I suppose. But… My captain, Philippa Georgiou, she said we came here to investigate energy readings. I assumed Starfleet thought there might be a useful weapon here against the Klingons we could use.” The human moved, shifting to sling her legs over the edge of the stone bed edge.

T’Sol nodded. “My ship’s scientists thought the same but we found nothing definitive. We were bordering sending an away team down before the Klingons uncloaked.”

“You weren’t on the bridge?”

A small breath left her lips before T’Sol shook her head. “No. I was with my first officer in the transport room going over the best placed to transport to.” Commander Shral, an Andorian, he had been very optimism on his mission. He had been planning to go down there… not her. It tugged at her more than she’d have liked but she’d attest that “The Klingons hit our warp core as soon as they decloaked. The ship was not designed for battle. A science vessel.”

Burnham nodded slowly, exhaling out. “I take it your First officer shoved you onto the transporter and you ended up here.”

T’Sol nodded, “the emergency kit was transported directly from storage. An experimental transport, I believe since I doubt he had the time to pull one from storage..”

Burnham scoffed after a moment, “Here I was sent to look around then fell down a hole…”

“There’s no need for comparison of stories of that basis.” T’Sol pointed out, “your ship got further than ours in that regard but our fates are the same. We cannot change what happened. Let’s move on and survive, Burnham.” T’Sol fixed her with a stern look. “You still need to rest. I’ll get you something to eat then we can go over our plan for the next foreseeable future.”

T’Sol didn’t wait for a complaint if there was one before she spun away and headed out to the door; to add more fire to the cooking fire that was slowly boiling away root-potatoes with an assortment of herbs and plants.

* * *

Michael had slept after eating through she was glad to wake up; feeling not only well-rested but full too. She hadn’t actually been able to get anything like those roots given the change of area. As surplus as they were, luck clearly hadn’t been on her side.

Her walk from the camp to the water had been a little slower, her leg ached with a low flash of pain in each step but that hardly stopped her as she stripped down and slipped into the water.

Cool seeped up over her body, rewarding her with a deep sense of soothing as she lay back…water ripples washed over her skin, though Michael couldn’t help but close her eyes as she gently rubbed at her chest to cleanse away the feeling of grime; while not totally dirty, sweat built up and Michael knew that female Vulcans had a much more sensitive sense of smell.

Best not to make her suffer any longer with her body odour.

A soft sigh escaped her as she ran her hand through her hair, massaging the water into her scalp. Her hair had really grown out… a month unkempt and now the tight curls bunched quite considerably to her skull; while not showing its true length and no doubt looked like it hadn’t grown out; she could guess it looked just a little bigger… to really see, she probably needed to find a mirror; or make one somehow. She’d probably have to braid it once it got long enough; it’d be easier to manage and spare her from pulling out any plants in her work; or bugs. _Here_ was not a place for _that_ problem.

Michael finished up with her wash after a quick shave, debating how long it had been before the Vulcan would come looking before she decided to get out. The water seeped from her skin and into her towel—which at this point was now a spare microfiber emergency blanket from T’Sol’s kit—as she pulled it from the near tree.

But a sharp sound pulled her attention, her head darted to her left sharply; seeing Captain T’Sol stop suddenly with her own towel over her arm; eyes widening with alarm before the Vulcan was quick to turn away,—but the damage was already done. Michael immediately pulled the towel around her. Her cheeks flushing and she felt the heat of embarrassment wash through her.

“My greatest apologise, Burnham.” The captain replied, her ear tips tinged with green though Michael didn’t wait to give an answer, snatching up her clothes before hurrying away.

It was only once she had fixed the door shut that she had realised she had gotten her uniform pants.

* * *

T’Sol hadn’t meant to walk on Burnham’s exit from her bathing. A part of her had worried the human had run off again— even as illogic as that thought was; humans haven’t adhered to it and she hadn’t considered the fact the woman had simply gone out for a bath. Food gathering, perhaps.

She had effectively broken her own rules; enforced to not have such a problem in the first place. Now, here, in her current state; she was _embarrassed_ to invade the human’s privacy. T’Sol hated that feeling. Embarrassment. A feeling she hadn’t had in decades; one she had never missed and now; full-blown embarrassment and she had been the one to _cause_ it.

Burnham certainly wouldn’t be the one bring it up, no; she knew the human was embarrassed about it far more than she was. Nudity wasn’t something of shame but it was _private_. Even if they had seen each other on one less item of clothing or another; it was nothing that hadn’t been without reason. An Injury or post-resurrection. It was a different feeling.

On Vulcan, privacy was part of their culture. Especially with nudity and…aspects of their biology.

But yet…there was an uncomfortable appeal she hadn’t wanted upon seeing her though. Bare skin, wet with cool water; hair practically glued to her skin. It was clear the woman had kept up with human personal hygiene too; legs quite obviously bare of hair. By the edge there was a pot of plant-based paste—to which she could assume the human had put together to ensure the blade beside didn’t hurt or cause irritation. A part of her had seen enough to know the other places and T’Sol felt the heat flush her cheeks at the image that cropped up again.

She was not a young Vulcan; she should certainly not feel like it either. She would not impose those indecent thoughts on herself onto her only companionship for their foreseeable future. A _human_ one. A recipe for disaster if there was any indication.

Her interest was no doubt a biochemical reaction of her unchecked emotions. As soon as she could get those under firmer control; she could look at Burnham again without remembering her in that state.

T’Sol swam to the water's edge, picking up the small bowl of purple paste an dipped a finger into it. It was warm, of course given the humid temperature but the paste rolled effortlessly over her fingertips. The scent coming off it was heavy in a mixture of wax and thick vegetable oil that was tinged with a few of their herbs. Bulked out by a filler ingredient, possibly dried out root-potato that had been ground down. She had seen this before on one of the shelves; she had assumed it to simply be a type of food paste; at least she hadn’t tried to taste it; even if it were all-natural ingredients.

Her attention shifted to the knife, left behind in the woman’s hurry along with the blue pants, then down to her own legs. Vulcan females did partake in similar hygiene rituals. With the tools, it was logical to follow them again.

* * *

T’Sol did dress again then go back and dress; picking up her towel and Burnham’s left things before she headed back towards the camp, feeling the soft flush of heat that settled in the delicate points of her ears before she slipped into the camp.

Michael was on the bed, a small light set up on the space behind her to see her dozing; half draped with a blanket; a bare leg exposed in the break of the blanket though it looked like the former commander had been in the middle of collecting up the lights and bits and pieces before dozing off.

T’Sol’s eyes for a second lingered on the exposed thigh before she pulled herself together and promptly kicked over an empty pot; startling the human but shifted her posture to appear it had been accidental. Being caught staring her awake was not going to help the situation.

Burnham’s eyes shot open and all but jumped off the bed. T’Sol turned though held out the pants to preserve the woman’s modesty.

“I would like to…apologise, Michael.” Using her first name purposely, “for walking in on your bathing. I should have known it was your time spot for that activity of yours. I hope that…this doesn’t affect our working dynamic here.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I accept it, Captain,” Burnham spoke up softly. “I understand it was…accidental on your part. Let’s…no longer discuss _that_ particular event and we can avoid the awkwardness of it.”

“I quite agree.” T’Sol felt a wave of relief and the soft shift in the air was less tense. She felt the fabric over her arm was pulled away though she didn’t turn until Burnham was once again fully dressed. As she should be.

Yet, why did she _want_ to see more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, i hope you enjoy this, the duo is back together and don't worry, Micheal and Philippa are still end game. 
> 
> T'Sol's still adjusting and there's some things that take time to kick in, such as biological urges *cough* pon farr *cough*. I will probably post the nsfw chapter here so the rating will change when I post such a chapter. 
> 
> also, for those that haven't seen, i posted a piece of fan art based on my vampire AU of Micheal's attack on Georgiou (under the name Bloodlust). I'd appreciate your thoughts on that art piece and kudos :) I worked hard on it and I'd love to know if there's anything more you'd want me to do.  
> \-- actually on that side note, i am doing a fan-art piece on Michael's death in this fic, so stay tuned in for that!!


	14. Lashing out

Michael listened out vaguely as the Vulcan tossed and turned beside her on the bed, the late-night calling her to sleep but the constant moving of the captain did little to help in that respect. Normally, Michael knew she could ask the Vulcan to stop and she would. But the fact the Vulcan was _asleep_ complicated it and she was otherwise _trapped_ on the bed since she was on the inside half and there was only _one_ edge out. T’Sol’s side.

It had been a few days since she had returned and she had noticed the Vulcan was struggling a lot more; Michael hadn’t wanted to pry. Not only did she not deserve an answer, T’Sol hadn’t been willing to give one despite the clear indications of needing it. Now, it felt apparent she had to pry; she couldn’t sleep with risk of injury; to herself or T’Sol.

“Captain,” Michael spoke through the semi-darkness.

There was no reply.

Michael rolled away from the wall, though had to stop herself quickly from rolling onto the Vulcan quickly, her fingers came and grasped at one of the wall notches.

T’Sol was deeply asleep though her face was creased and flushed which gave her usual yellowish-pallor to her beige skin a further greenish tone.

“Captain T’Sol,” Michael spoke louder though again, there were no clear indications. Her fingers came up and touched her shoulder with a soft shake though she blinked as she felt an unusual amount of heat over the Vulcan’s skin; too hot for this humidity and the fire was burning low.

T’Sol gasped suddenly and shot up.

In a moment, Michael yelped sharply as the world spun and a sudden weight was on her, a hand grasping her neck. Michael immediately stayed still; her hands up and palms exposed though, after a moment, she watched the Vulcan blink before she seemed to realise what she was sitting on.

“Sorry.” She got off and slid from the bed and went straight for the water-still they had in the corner of the room and grabbed a cup.

Michael clambered after her, though tossed in a log to the embers to bring out the light of the flames. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

The Vulcan seemed not to hear, glugging down the cup full loudly before going for a second.

Michael _tsked_ softly. “You can’t keep doing this… whatever this is, I can handle it. I grew up on Vulcan and have been around them for most of my life.”

“It’s a private matter.”

“Yes, but right now, privacy is on an all-time low. We sleep on the same bed, use the same cups, bathe in the same lake…hell, we even use the same blade to shave.”

T’Sol dropped the cup onto the side, the sound clinking around the room before she turned swiftly. “I think we should _revise_ some of those.”

A soft sound left her lips before she knew it. “Oh please, stop trying. You know I will find out, one way or another. Where is the logic in concealing this? There’s no one else here.” No one to pass any sort of judgement against T’Sol, certainly no other Vulcans.

A soft glower etched onto the captain’s face; displeased but there was a look of debate. “It’s…not common in the female population but it does happen. Most cases… under extreme stress, external chemical input or other…factors.”

Michael frowned though she could logically deduct what the captain was suggesting. “Pon Farr.”

T’Sol’s eyes closed, her hand coming to brush her grown-out hair from her face. “The most likely cause was the resurrection. My body’s healed enough to…correct the other imbalances in my system but this…” She shook her head.

Michael said nothing. She could not offer any condolences on the fact because that would do little but that didn’t mean she…couldn’t find a way to help. There were options. “Kal-if-fee or mating would resolve the imbalance.”

T’Sol shook her head again. “If my husband was here, the solution would be simple. I would be able to re-establish our bond that I lost upon my death.”

“I can help.” Of course, not the best of offers but she’d _heal_. Fighting a stronger opponent, much less a Vulcan in the best of days weren’t ideal, nor sleeping with them; they were far stronger in that regard as well.

“I am still in the very, _very_ early days of this. My symptoms with progress into a blood fever but I will resign to meditating. I do not want violence nor to end up killing you… I doubt you’d suit as a temporary mate given you’re human and female.”

Michael almost smiled—amused that her gender would…alter the end result. But she could appreciate the captain’s attempts to remain impartial at the suggestions. Clearly she wanted to maintain a respectable distance for their current working system if anything and given she was a human, she could see the Vulcan didn’t want her to get ‘emotionally’ attached by a hypothetical event.

“Logically and respectively, captain, whatever gets you off will work.” She gave the captain a solid look before she yawned. “Look, I’ll keep my mind open to your needs but the choice is still yours to make. In the meantime. I’m going back to bed.” She could feel the tiredness pulling at her eyelids. “There are a few caves I’m gonna explore tomorrow. They might have metal ores we can use.” She wanted to escape their stone-age craft now.

She didn’t wait for a reply before scooping up the blanket and got back into bed, covering herself fully with it.

* * *

Thung.

Thung.

 _Thung_.

“Ow!”

Michael jumped up, hopping on one foot before glaring down to the offending rock as it lay so innocently on the floor as if it hadn’t dropped into her foot. No, she’d at least take half the blame for taking off her boot… a mistake she wasn’t going to plan on making again.

“Stupid rocks.”

She tossed another selection of glittering stone into the full basket and slipped her boot back on(checking to make sure another stone hadn't slipped down there again). At best, she could assume this was iron ore or aluminium. But frankly, either or both she’d be happy with. Smelting them…

Smelting was hardy a criteria in Starfleet’s hand book unless they’re purposely going to be part of an away mission that involved it… Now, she’d have to experiment. Without a PADD and a data base, they had to guess as they went along.

As usual.

Getting them back to camp was harder, with the weight and the walk, it took a while though she was glad to see the flicking outside cooking fire and the mediating figure of the captain in front of it.

She dropped the basket off at the steps with a huff and left them. “Please warn me against taking a big basket to pick up a load of rocks.” She’d definitely feel it later. “Or…you know convince me to build some sort of wheelbarrow.” Maybe something else to do… on top of _everything_ _else_.

Michael flopped down next her, picking up a whittled stick in a near pot and peeked into the soup that was boiling away. The smell of the broth stirred the familiar pang of hunger though there were a few brightly coloured leaves that were floating in there that she hadn’t had before but it gave the aroma a sweeter scent. She gave it a stir.

“It’s not ready yet,” T’Sol spoke quietly.

She redacted the stick, dropping it back into the pot. “Let me know when it is. I’m starving.”

Her eyes ran over the surface of their camp. Taking in the space they had. Plenty, of course. Their camp was away from the pit and there was still plenty of ruin space to organise a…forge of sorts. T’Sol had already taken the most open one for their little garden of plants _and_ a second…

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Feel free to help whenever the mood hits you.” Michael replied, straightening up her spine, pressing her hands into her lower back, unable to help a sigh of relief as she felt her column crack; surging a sense of relief filtering through her spine. “Why are you asking?”

T’Sol’s brown eyes opened. “Haven’t you wondered my…skills are much more advanced?”

“I did, though you did give me a….logical reason.”

T’Sol nodded softly. “I was dead when I told you that.”

“You were lying?”

“No, but… I hadn’t realised that I was dead _at the time._ My katra was given a tangible form to interact with you. You’re not…telepathic so… It’s leading me to believe that this planet holds a lot more than what we can currently know with our limited technology.”

Michael’s head tilted. “You’re being fed information telepathically?” Not impossible, of course, but it could explain the Vulcan’s higher aptitude for knowing more than she should, even if it’s not consciously. “ _What_ is this planet?”

T’Sol shrugged. “I can deduct that it’s highly unlikely to be a natural occurrence. Telepathic presence can’t naturally occur to this scale. ”

“Indeed.” Which did leave open a lot of option, “Perhaps…a terraformation project.”

“Most likely.”

Michael chewed on her lip softly. A planet with a telepathic presence; low enough to not touch a human mind but enough to give a Vulcan knowledge to aid _survival_. A planet that had plenty of food, water and so far, minimal predators. One with a _very_ specific pool that could bring back the dead. All in all, none of it was…natural.

Nature of a planet often didn’t care what lived and died; species adapted for that, adapted to survive. Plants grew thicker roots, some grew quills…

“If we’re building a hypothesis, we should gather more data. If the planet is made, it was made centuries, perhaps thousands of years ago by an unknown race.”

“Why abandon it?” T’Sol questioned, distracted now. “Why leave this place if it was perfect to suit their needs?” She got up off her mat, “Food, water and a home. Clearly a…colony. Perhaps the pools were made to help the colonists. Why did they go? There’s no…logical reason to not keep a claim on this planet at the very least”

“They probably died off.”

“Not with that pool.” T’Sol pointed out. “Let’s…let’s consider ourselves as the sort of species that made this planet. Clearly, you need resources. Food and water, so… you find an M class planet, or perhaps one that could become one. You terraform it, it blooms.”

Michael's eyes followed as the Vulcan started to pace, wiping away sweat from her flushed cheeks.

“Maybe… once they have it they need to defend it.” Michael suggested, “They could develop ways to harness a…neurogenic field planet-wide to keep people off it.”

T’Sol hummed. “Over time though, it must have degraded to something more like a loose net. The energy from the pit is higher than anywhere else.”

“If there were people and they died like us, their minds…could have been trapped in the net. They’d… know more about this planet and survival if they had lived here.”

“So… it’d make sense that it would be picked up in my mind.” T’Sol stopped, “It’s….odd they’d be so primitive about it. If they had the technology to terraform, why would they know how to weave and make pots…or make such basic homes?”

Michael shrugged. “Depends if they have replicators or not. Living off the land requires primitive knowledge.” They both knew that given how long they had been here.

“Still doesn’t explain why it was abandoned.” T’Sol moved back to her mat, her hands coming to her cheeks. “My…ability to question this more logically is getting harder as of the moment. I need to meditate.”

“Fine but can we eat first?”

* * *

Michael had decided on an early night, leaving the Vulcan to mediate as she cleaned up and packed away their dining utensils and dishes from their meal, doing her best to ignore how hazy her mind was feeling. Throughout their meal, she had noticed there was a subtle change in T’Sol’s face and her fingers shook while she had been eating. Her gaze lingered on her a little too often but again, nothing was said. It didn’t take a genius she had moved into a worser stage of Pon Farr.

Entering Plak tow.

A factor of her decision on top of the haze.

The mutineer shut the door after her, slipping out of her boots, pants and jacket before unclasping her bra from under her vest and folded it up into a neat pile. Her eyes flickered around to the shelf, placing it down though her eyes didn’t catch the usual flash of gold that should have been on a higher shelf.

Her heart picked up in speed, dumping the clothes down before she began to search the shelf, her fingers washing over each of the cubby’s corners. Her eyes darted down next, to the floor; in case it had fallen.

_Please don’t be lost._

She tossed aside a pot, fingers finding one of the spare lights and flicked it on but the cold, bright light didn’t shine onto any reflective.

“No…no no, no…” She could feel the swell of panic, moving more things from the immediate area but again, there was no gold…

She couldn’t have lost it… no now. She couldn’t lose that!

Her searching got more panicked, emptying a stack of wooden tools into the floor, shifting through their spare supplies, emptying a basket of logs. She looked wildly around, going for the bed and wrenched off the covers. Nothing. She clambered on, checking the small cubbies and crevices—

“What _are_ you doing?”

“Georgiou’s badge…. It’s gone!” Michael fired back. “I left it on the shelf and now it’s gone.” She pulled back the edges of the mattress, putting the light between her teeth to shine down as she patted and searched.

“Are you sure it was left there?”

Michael whizzed around to the Vulcan. The light dropping out of her mouth. “Of course I did. It’s been there for weeks. I didn’t want to lose it in my daily jobs. _Here_ , it was safe.”

Now it was gone.

T’Sol’s head cocked to the side, though surveyed the mess she had started to make. “Michael now is not the time to upset the entire room and approach this without destruction.”

“I have to find it now!” She couldn’t sleep knowing it was gone. Her only piece of Philippa that was left behind… she couldn’t lose her. Not again. She had kept it safe so, so long…how could she be so _careless_?

“Michael. I need to rest... Please stop.” Exhaustion laced in the Vulcans tone but Michael shook her head.

“Then sleep outside, it’s hardly gonna be much different than it is in here.” She jumped off the bed, almost treading on the axe but she felt a sudden hand grasp her forearm as she went to move the charcoal basket. “ _Let go.”_ Immediately though she felt a welt of defensiveness.

“That’s an _order_ , Burnham.” T’Sol’s voice hardened, her cheeks darkening a further green. “I am still _captain_ here.”

“And I am still a mutineer.” Michael retorted back, her anger washing through her though she hissed out as the grip tightened on her arm, unable to pull her arm free. “I can’t have lost it. I have to find it.”

“It’s _just_ a metal badge.”

“No, it’s not!” She pulled her weight back, shoving her foot into the Vulcan’s knee in the same motion; barely hearing the pop as the cap shifted from its position. Pain, along with the sudden act caused the Vulcan to loosen her grip and she twisted from her grip and fall back against the wall.

T’Sol hand went to her knee and for a second, the Vulcan did nothing but grit her teeth but then there was a low, wet crunch; her knee cap snapping into place. Darker eyes turned to her. “Go. To. Bed.”

Michael glowered but didn’t move. “I _need_ that badge.”

T’Sol shot forwards but Michael ducked under her and jumped up onto the supply crate, the axe in hand but she gripped it more out of a sense of security; doubting she’d actually use it but… she couldn’t have T’Sol stop her now. Sooner it was found, sooner this could settle down. She didn’t mind being the one to sleep outside; she just needed that badge.

T’Sol whipped around, her eyes now burning with anger. “This behaviour is unlike you… I’d really advise you to stand down and—”

“I can’t have lost it!” Michael snapped, “I kept it safe. I needed to keep her safe!” her voice rose, “ _I can’t lose her again!”_ Anger pushed her forwards, dropping the axe, she swung at the Vulcan…

* * *

Michael groaned out softly… pain radiating down her leg and her forearm mostly though she felt the cool rock under her that gave her any moments of awareness.

 _Crack_.

“Ahh…” She felt the bone in her arm shift and crack back into place, another crack echoing as the same thing happened down her leg but she didn’t get up… the pain dimming and the aches lessened down her body though her stomach hurt the most. Vaguely, she just about heard the beeps of a tricorder before she felt the fingers press against the side of her neck; everything going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honestly, i had wanted them to settle the pon Farr in how you'd expect them to do it, but... it just didn't feel the overly right way to go about it. if I do them settling it out in bed, it'll probably be in a separate fic. 
> 
> Micheal's impulsive actions and change of demeanour will be explained in the next chap--don't worry. Plus, I want to explore the emotional side Micheal's been suppressing since she got there. After all, falling to her death and being stranded or ordinarily traumatic but Micheal's been trained by Vulcan's to suppress this. I want to see what would happen if the lid of that fizzed-up emotional bottle was unscrewed.
> 
> I'm hoping to do a time skip soon so we get Georgiou back :) I'm setting out the seeds for that now so you don't think I'm throwing you out there to far without a good enough reason to where stuff came from


	15. Tough talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i think i wanted to help address more of Micheal's feelings in this chapter than briefly touching on it move on. No, human emotions aren't like that so... here it is!

A soft groan left her lips.

A low pulsing ache seemed to run down the side of her neck and shoulder, that was the first thing Michael felt through the dark haze of awareness. The second was the cold, solid surface and tingling down her arm…

“Ow…” She gently shifted, rolling from her side and thumped onto her back though she could feel the light pressing against her eyelids, she didn’t open them.

Then… the memories came back.

Her heart tightened and sunk, her throat constricted yet she didn’t allow herself for anything _further_. Not now…not after what she had done yesterday. Why had she done that?

“I know you’re awake.”

Michael jumped, her eyes shooting open to see she was on the inside of their home…on the _floor_. Behind her, Captain T’Sol was on the bed, looking at a particular leaf and the tricorder with a vivid sense of curiosity.

“You left me on the floor,” Michael grumbled though she hissed as she shifted; parts of her body immediately aching…especially her arm and leg.

“You ruined the bed.”

Michael said nothing though she felt a welt of annoyance, her gaze turning to see the state of the room. It….was far from neat… but in all honestly, Michael couldn’t quite remember how she left it. Especially how dark it had been at the time. Gently though, she pushed herself up, a hand coming to massage the ache.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“You broke my arm.” Otherwise, it wouldn’t still be aching. Even with their…healing, clearly there was some sort of limits. But, she supposed she wasn’t doused in pit-water to resolve that. “And my leg.”

“Yes, but not what I was referring to.” T’Sol’s eyes rose from the leaf. “You’re not okay. You’re dealing with a lot of suppressed emotion in terms of your placement here.”

Michael shot her a dark look. “You’re not exactly the one to talk. Especially _about_ emotions.” Suppressed emotions before this whole thing or not, it was new to _her_ since childhood.

A soft airy hum left the captain’s lips. “Do you know what this is?” She held up the leaf.

“No.”

T’Sol’s head cocked to the side. “I added it to our food last night. I mistook it for a near-identical plant I had found that _would_ have contained a relaxant and tranquil properties. Instead of…relaxing us both, it gave us a more…subtle adverse effect.” Beside her, she picked a second lead. Identical in colouring, the triangle shape was less pronounced and more rounded than the first one she had. “It…sped up the aspects of Pon Farr in me and with you, it increased irritability and aggression, decreased your reasoning capacity.”

Michael’s eyes flickered between the two leaves then pulled a face. She couldn’t deny that she had felt…weird but she knew herself; not _all_ were due to being drugged. No, it had been building up and it still was, even if she had blown her top last night.

“How are you doing with that?” Nodding to T’Sol, though she looked…remarkably better. Her skin was less flushed and relatively calm. Drawing the conversation from herself this time. Pon far was a life-death situation.

“Our...fight last night dealt with the problem. _My_ aggression was no drug-induced since my body’s imbalance was much stronger than what this could induce. I should be fine now.”

After a moment, Michael opted to move, rolling onto her side then up to her knees, her eyes washing over the floor; a part of her with a distance hope of perhaps seeing a little bit of gold; that the light streaming through would reveal where it was but… there was none. Just the mess she had made.

“Glad I could help.” She grumbled out, pushing herself up though swayed heavily, her hand coming to the wall to steady herself.

“Come with me.” T’Sol jumped out of bed with a spurt of surprising finesse.

“Give me a minute to wake up and get refreshed, captain,” however, Michael found herself being tugged out of the cabin by a stern Vulcan grip wrapping around her arm. She tried her best to keep balanced. “T’Sol!”

T’Sol didn’t stop though her feet slipped on the ground as they passed through the thinned out tree line though she stiffened up to see where they were going… this whole suddenly felt like it was escalating a little too quickly.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Where they were going was the pit. However, unlike before where it was usually covered up and the frame they were building to go around it had been removed and left to the side at the tree line, leaving just the pit open and exposed; just how it always worried her. Covered up or with a good enough motivation, she wasn’t so hesitant to be around it. Now it was open like a pit into hell and she was being dragged straight towards it.

She dug her boots in.

“Let go of me!”

“No.” T’Sol yanked her sharply forwards

Michael gasped as she was shoved ahead and straight into the pit’s stone edge. A pull pain rang down her palm, her knee scraping against the stone. Her fingers though locked onto the edge though, stiffening up. Her heart began to pick up, her eyes staring straight into the edge of the drop. Then she felt a grip around the back of her neck, keeping her in place.

“Fear of _this_ is logical. I understand that.” T’Sol started, so calmly that she was almost as if she wasn’t holding her there. “What is illogical is the fact that you’re suppressing the events of your death and your stay here. Emotionally. You’ve not come to terms with the fact that we’re gonna stay on this planet for the rest of our lives.”

“Let go of me.” Michael gritted out, closing her eyes.

“No. Because like it or not, you’re human. I am not but I have worked with humans for a long time. You have to face this otherwise it will eat you up in the inside until you snap. Not like last night, no. It would be much worse than a little scuffle.” T’Sol started, her tone sternly crafted, taking a second to breathe in deeply. “You have not grieved your losses. You like to think you have but your behaviour says as much. That _badge_ is your idea of hope, that your captain will come and rescue you. Take you home. Perhaps then you could have admitted that you _liked_ her…”

“Please…” Michael pushed back against her grip.

“Maybe after the guilt the captain had of losing you…and leaving you behind, she’d want you back, to try and make amends,” the captain carried on.

“…please stop,”

“But that would only make it worse because you both know that any foundations of love and a relationship is not to be built on by guilt; some part of you might compare which of you got it worse, altering the tensions between you, until one day, you will end up in an argument that will tear you two apart. But….you’ll get back together and start the cycle again.” T’Sol’s fingers tightened. “Am I wrong?”

Michael’s eyes stayed clenched shut but she could feel each of the Vulcan’s words, how she talked about Philippa… She wanted to reach back and claw the Vulcan’s hand off her neck but with the strength behind the grip and the angle, and that by removing her hands; she felt would end up with her being pushed further towards the pit….

“I… don’t want to.” She didn’t want to think about that. Yes, she wanted Philippa… and she wanted to be wanted back.

“This planet is our grave, Michael. We’re not leaving. We’re trapped here. You don’t have your captain. Your Philippa Georgiou is not here. You have _yourself_ here, you have _me_ here. _We_ have to survive here. Which means that we can’t do anything but take care of each other. Physically and emotionally.”

Pressure built against her neck, enough for her to feel ebbs of pain grow. “This feels far from caring. This hurts.” Physically and emotionally from where she was pulling at old wounds.

“You humans call it ‘ _tough love_ ’.” Suddenly the grip shifted, pushing her forwards further, enough for her eyes to snap open as the dark depth loomed much bigger. The lock on her arm breaking which only lurched her forwards even more.

“Captain!!”

“First thing you need to address is this. Your death.”

Michael’s heart thundered in her chest, already feeling the cold sweat down her spine. “Let go of me.”

There was a second beat.

“Alright.”

And just as suddenly the grip was gone but she found the shift in gravity change that caused her to topple forwards. Michael screamed out, her hands immediately clawing to the side, catching the rim of stone that enabled a grip, enough to force her the right way up.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I FUCKING MEANT!” Michael roared, her fingers already starting to hurt and she could feel her heart run a mile a minute, welding a boot into what she hoped was a crack and flattened herself against the flat face…

She almost wanted to hyperventilate but the cold reality suddenly forced her body to comply with simply holding on and feeling the pull of gravity….

“T’Sol!” She squeezed her eyes shut, “please….” even if she survived, she didn’t _want_ to fall. Not to _experience_ it all over again. “…not again.” She could feel the strain already burning.

There were soft sounds of rubber against stone but she didn’t dare move to see where T’Sol was going. Frozen in spot.

“Then change it, do something, Burnham. Move. Climb up.” The voice was behind her, echoing with a distance. “You gave up on yourself last time and let go. Climb up by yourself. Or…you’ll fall. You’ll deal with the results of either choice but one thing is sure; _I_ will not help you up. This is your fate to change.”

Michael whimpered. Her muscles starting to shake. Letting go would be _easy_. Feeling the pain of hitting the water; it scared her as much as the drop. She supposed, with the slab sunken, it wasn’t gonna kill her straight away… but not appealing either.

Her eyes cracked open, pressing her face against the cool rock, Michael could see she had to…try. Philippa wasn’t at stake. Pressing her weight against the rock, she tested the lip in the rock with her weight and shifted her fingers, trying to feel more… her foot lifted, trying to find another crack.

She found it, pushing her boot to rest on what she hoped was the sweet spot and added more weight, lifting herself up, her hand clawing up over the edge’s lip and caught around the ledge. After a few more tugs Michael was height enough to lift a knee up, using the momentum to roll away from the stone edge as soon as she was up.

Nausea followed suit, clawing onto her knees before she vomited up what was left in her stomach. Michael’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe through the wrenches, feeling how her throat seemed to constrict in the process. With a swipe of her hand, she kicked dirt into her mess and pushed to crawl further away. Her eyes began to sting and she could feel her nose start to drip.

“Let it go, Michael.” The call was soft, spoken than shouted and it echoed but she didn’t have the strength of will to do anything but _crumble_.

Her shoulders shook and finally, she let out a wail, tears burning at her eyes and down her cheeks…

* * *

It didn’t stop. Not for a while, even when T’Sol had pulled her into a hug; she couldn’t help but take it. She didn’t stop when she was gently led up and away back to the camp. But…when she had stopped, Michael was left with a new sense of exhaustion so she lay on the bed, the waterworks not quite stopping so she allowed the tears to soak up into her jacket that acted as her pillow. Even managed to ignore a soft tremor that shook the place.

Her head hurt like it was filled with beans, her throat hurt as if she had punched there and her nose felt blocked. All in all, she felt like crap. And angry. She knew she’d get to that part later. Angry that T’Sol had put her through this. Making her do that.

Her eyes followed the Vulcan as she entered, watching her fill up a mug and set it in front of her face on the edge of the bed.

“You need to hydrate. I’ll get lunch prepared then we can talk again.”

“I hate you,” Michael mumbled weakly, not sure if she actually meant it but it felt good to say it to her face at the least.

“Okay.” T’Sol acknowledged with a snort nod though she picked up a basket and began to sort through some of the veg, thumps of them hitting the bottom of the basket before she breezed out without a care in the world.

Michael gingerly drank, the cool water blissful into cooling both the ache in her throat and released the blockages in her nose. Even her head felt marginally better.

Carefully though, and with her jacket huddled in her arms, she peeled herself away from the bed and out. Watching as the Vulcan set herself up at the outside fire with bowls of water, a knife and a wooden board and began to peel and cut them.

“If you’re gonna stand and watch, there are easier places to do that. Burnham.”

Michael wasn’t at all surprised at being caught watching, nor did she care but she patted out and sat down on the other side of the fire.

Watching the Vulcan work was…therapeutic. Veg cut and set into pots, ones that needed to soften were done first and put to boil with a few herbs. Though she noticed the colourful leaves that she added; the _corrected_ one this time, she hoped.

“What you did was horrible.” She stated quietly, fiddling with the jacket, hugging it against her. “That was cruel.”

T’Sol didn’t stop what she was doing. “It was necessary.”

“It was overkill.”

T’Sol sighed, “You were being stubborn. Sometimes the road to recovery needs to hurt at first. It’s messy, it’s horrible but it’s a _process_. You weren’t allowing yourself to acknowledge how your fear is seeded to understand how to grieve for your death.”

Michael sniffled, pulling a face. “You could have told me that.”

“Then how would you have learned?” T’Sol questioned back, pausing as she sliced through ruby red celery. “How could you have come to terms with your death other than to literally go through it?”

“You could have helped me when I asked.”

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have been helping. Your death, _you_ had to face it. You had the choice back then, just as much as you did earlier. You let go the first time. You _chose_ that.”

Michael shook her head. “I had to let go. Philippa couldn’t hold on. She was….too damaged. She would have fallen with me.”

“Then you’d _both_ be dead, you’d both be brought back and both be stranded here with me.” T’Sol concluded, “You made a choice for her just as much as it was your own.”

Michael nodded. She understood that. “I’m glad it was only me. Not her.” She could live with that. She couldn’t imagine Philippa living on a planet like this with her.

“Did you want to die?” A note of curiosity got a little more peaked, feeling the Vulcan’s stare but Michael lowered her eyes to stare to the bubbling pot

“Before this planet… I don’t really know.” She closed her eyes, recalling the memories of her time since the war; the betrayal she had done she knew she would have died on the day of the battle for Georgiou; to blow herself to hell for redemption if Philippa would allow it (she would have done _anything_ to do it herself than allow Georgiou to do it if she had chosen the old plan, even to hurt her again to do it).

After that…the idea had fleeted through her mind on more than one occasion but that had been when she hit the real lows in prison. Enduring each day at a time because she deserved to live through it than give in and prove to everyone how weak she was. Prove to Philippa, Sarek…Amanda or even Spock that she wasn’t able to endure a harder life with all the crap she had served herself with.

Even if she did, no one would have let her die unless they wanted her to die. If they had to live in the hell she had made, so did she. She had to _endure_ the emotional turmoil from all of that. Pain, resentment and distrust.

“I was never supposed to be on the planet. I didn’t even want to be here. But…I was ordered to.” Michael admitted quietly. “My…last few days, or hours on the ship…weren’t good.”

“Oh?”

Michael inhaled deeply. “I just wanted to have my dinner. Georgiou put me into looking into the Utopia’s recordings and data from the BlackBox before then. But….she had the first officer, Saru, stay and oversee my work. I already had a biomonitor keeping track of me, curfew… having my work checked over by someone who used to be a subordinate officer…hurt. They didn’t trust me. Philippa didn’t trust me. She didn’t even tell me why I was down there…”

“Do you blame her for your death?”

Michael’s eyes flickered open again, more so at the question but…she found she had no answer. Not really. Did she blame Georgiou for this?

“I don’t know.”

T’Sol nodded. “You’ll find out… but I think that…we’ve started to make progress.”

Michael nodded, “I suppose.”

T’Sol got back to cutting up the veg. siring the pot. “This is our future now, Michael. You, me and this planet. We might never see our loved ones again or the view of this planet above. Let’s work through this, survive and…see what happened.”

Michael nodded softly, allowing herself to offer a brief smile. “Aye, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i felt this was a good place to end this fraction of time. Things have been established, Micheal's on the road to recovery and i think that the next one will be in a time-jump which is what we're all looking for hehehe. 
> 
> Please, drop some comments, kudos and tell me what you think :)


	16. Returning to the planet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! Philippa's return! I thought this would be the best point to do it and it's been far too long!

Philippa’s eyes stared ahead as the windows displayed the familiar trail of warp though she felt her veins pumping fast and her heart fluttering in her chest. Her mind repeating the last moments on the planet; watching the woman fall back into the pit, her eyes wide with dear as she clung to the rope; Philippa could almost feel how the strain of Burnham’s weight ached her chest before the weight was gone; seeing Michael fall away into the darkness.

Then the blood-chilling thud.

She hated that. Hearing Michael’s death; seeing how powerless she was to stop it. She shouldn’t have let Michael go; the woman had only wanted to stay and eat…

“Captain, we’re a few minutes away from the planet,” Owosekun spoke up, pulling her from her thoughts.

Philippa’s head bobbed quietly, her hand drifting down to her chest as she inhaled deeply, the familiar chronic pain worse than it had been all this time since she had last been here.

“Saru, get a landing party down prepared. We’ll take a shuttle down this time.” There was no argument to the fact; they all knew she was going down and Philippa intended to see with her own eyes on the collection of Michael’s remains; what was left of them, at least.

“Aye, Captain.”

It didn’t take long before the ship lurched to a stop. The familiar sight of the green and blue marble seemed to take up the entire screen. Her breath held though and she felt the ache return for a moment before she pushed herself up from the captain’s chair.

“Scans show only we’re in the area. “

“Good.” They had all the time in the world now. No threat of war or…Klingon attacks. They wouldn’t be forced from the surface.

Philippa strode from the bridge, leaving Saru with the chair and headed straight into the turbolift and down to the cargo bay.

* * *

“Captain, can I come?”

The voice of the newly promoted Ensign Tilly made her head turn as she clipped on her new, reinforced and supportive, protective vest. Philippa frowned though she could see the sad-need in her blue eyes. Since Burnham’s death, things had not been easy for the cadet. Both She and Detmer, along with Saru were the only ones to…have much of an emotional impact from Burnham’s death. Having served with Burnham on the Shenzhou.

Tilly…

The captain knew Tilly had been quick to establish Burnham as a friend; something she had been both worried and pleased about because… she knew a friend was what Michael needed. Letting her go down and…see the place of her death, Philippa felt caution to allow this. The…emotional side of this wasn’t going to be pleasant for anyone, especially for a young Ensign.

“Are you ready to? It won’t be pleasant, emotionally, Ensign.”

Tilly nodded, “I want to help. She was my friend.”

After a moment, she nodded. “if it gets too much, you’ll return to the shuttle.”

Tilly’s shoulders relaxed, nodding quick and immediately went to get a vest. “Yes, Captain.”

Around her, the landing party were checking over their equipment and boxes as they were packed into a shuttle. Landry was double-checking the…particular, _empty_ case that made her stomach tighten. A box that made this trip seem…real.

The bones would bring her the reality of the trip when they got down there.

“We’ve got everything, captain. Abseiling kit, tripod, spare fusion anchors and a safety rope for anyone going down there.” Nilsson spoke up, coming beside her with the checklist. “We’ll set up a line fence around the opening first and the tripod before we send anyone down there.”

“Good.” Philippa knew she wouldn’t be the one to do that, not with her condition but she trusted Landry to be careful. She couldn’t have a repeat. Not again and not now.

* * *

With everything set to go, they departed from Discovery. Philippa watched vaguely out as they decreased down… the shuttle shaking with turbulence as clouds passed; the deep, lush green forests, sapphire ocean that disappeared from behind the treelines.

As soon as the doors opened, the humidity of the planet seeped in, washing a heat over her skin but she still felt the welt of coldness in her gut and chest. She plucked out her tricorder. “This is our transport site down. I thought we were getting closer.”

“The energy fields around the planet has grown, Captain. Finding our old coordinates is much easier to navigate from than landing at the alien ruins.” Nilsson spoke, “I’ve downloaded our route from our old coordinates so…we should find our way quickly.”

“I see.”

Another walk. Philippa supposed that that was logical enough. The planet was still unusual and…she could prepare herself for what they were about to do.

With Boxes and bags held between the four of them, Philippa took the lead. Her eyes following the tricorder though there was…a few rock formation and tree slants that were familiar. Tilly was lagging behind though the pace was steady.

“Ooh, this is weird.” The Ensign spoke up, pulling some of their attention.

“What is?”

Tilly bending down, inspecting a plant, though it was covered in quill-like needles. Looking like a large sea-urchin but this was missing over half and had an exposed section of fruit that was being eaten by insects.

“It’s just a plant.”

“Yes but… this plants been cut.” Tilly pointed out, pulling out her tricorder. “I doubt animals use any time of sharp implement for something so…spikey.”

Landry exhaled impatient. “It’s just a plant. We can talk about foliage later.”

Georgiou didn’t make a remark on it either though she knew the plant from what was sent back from Discovery. Nothing harmful. She let it go and pushed the team to continue on.

But as they walked through, there were…signs that began to appear that hadn’t been there before. Things and areas were clearly moved, the steps that Michael had found had…been uncovered, exposing the dark stone slab steps that went up. It looked…near, organised.

“Do you smell smoke?” Landry questioned.

For a second, there was dead silence but Philippa felt her hear pick up in her chest. Organised and cleared ruins and smoke was subjective to interpretation; but she could logically assume that…someone was on the planet. Stranded here, it would seem. But…she knew not to hope; Burnham…Michael didn’t survive the fall. It wasn’t possible. A part of her did; the idea of Michael being here was both a longing and a fear because…it opened up a can of worms she didn’t want to touch; not after spending so long dealing with her loss.

There was a low whirring of tricorders.

“The scans not…fully clear but I’m picking up a life sign ahead, 30 meters away.” Tilly spoke.

“Human?”

“No, Vulcan.”

Philippa inhaled deeply. Vulcan. That brought up another question then answered but… it was easy to assume perhaps a cruiser went down after they had left.

“Then let's say hello. No doubt they’ll be relieved to see us.”

Following the life-sign, the ruins that had been grown over began to look much better; cleaner even and clear signs of excavation and reuse of areas; one area looked to be a compost pit of rotting fruit and vegetable, even scans of bones of fish-like species that gave a data estimation of being there for a _while_. A few rodents and a lemur-like monkey were around feasting so they decided not to interrupt.

Then…they got to a wide break to see an immediate and clear campsite.

There was a large area of buildings that were clustered together in a court-yard like fashion, large trees grew around and through this. In front of one of the cabins was a crackling fire under a large wok-like pan though there was no signs of a Vulcan. There was however a washing line that was swung up, blue, cut up stat fleet uniform appeared to be drying and there was filled pots, baskets and even piles of stones and fragments of rough iron bars. All in all, it was easy to be impressed with the amount of work. She could imagine that there was a lot more work put into the inside than what they could only see on the surface. 

“Jesus.” Landry remarked, “Someone’s been busy.”

“Nilsson, why don’t you call for Dr Culber or Dr Pollard to transport down to the shuttle and meet them there? We’ll need to have the Vulcan checked over.” She didn’t doubt a Vulcan’s ability to survive but…she had to ensure they weren’t ill or could pass on illness to their team.

“What about Michael?” Tilly asked quietly, head turning as she watched the commander headed back the way they came. 

“We have to see to the Vulcan.” Even saying those words, Philippa hated it, but…it was true, the living had more president over the dead; even if the dead was why they were here. Once the Vulcan was seen to, they could get them off the planet and into a familiar environment.

“Come on.”

The smell of the fire was prominent but the smell from the wok was stronger that tingled her senses that that was boiling away was doused in heavy herbs and spices; too much to be edible. Beside the fire were scraps of firewood, water and…other colourful liquids that she couldn’t quite guess but allowed her eyes to roam, taking in all the details and equipment.

“The life-signs getting closer from another building.”

For a second, they waited and Philippa’s hands twitched with uncertainty before…movement appeared around the corner that stopped dead in their tracks as soon as she saw them.

But it was clear to see a sudden line of emotion that flittered through the Vulcan’s face before an emotionless mask slipped over. Looking at her, it was clear to see the woman had been here a while; hair grew out and their uniform was modified into mid-thigh shorts and a vest; the jacket out of sight but their belt and holster was used to hold more primitive weapons such as a long, crafted blade and a few knives. In the Vulcan’s hand was a flat, wicker basket that looked to have a collection of newly pulled root veg and plants.

Silence was only broken by the fire but it felt like there was an odd…energy between them. 

Uncertainly, awkwardness and…a feeling of _distrust_ that seemed to emanate from the Vulcan, enough to feel in the air that was…oddly unsettling.

Georgiou frowned softly but opted to make the first move. “I’m Captain Philippa Georgiou from the USS Discovery.”

The Vulcan nodded slowly, carefully putting the basket down, “Captain T’Sol from the USS Utopia.”

She could feel the looks the two behind her exchanged but ignored it for now as she stepped closer. “Forgive me, but…I was under the impression the ship was lost with all hands.”

T’Sol nodded, “I assumed as much, Captain but I was forced onto the surface before the ship’s destruction. I have been here ever since.”

Philippa’s frown deepened but…the whole dates of the ships destructions didn’t quite fit to the dates she was aware of. Not really. If there had been a Vulcan living on this planet, they certainly would have picked them up long before they’d have left. Hell, rescuing anyone off the planet back then would have been a morale booster but _now_?

“You’ve been on this planet for _2 years_?” She sceptically asked. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

Again, another factor that...didn’t quite add up; two years was a long time to be alone, even for a Vulcan. A human would have long since killed themselves out of the lack of social and emotional necessity.

Philippa approached carefully, noting the stiffening muscles that formed as she stopped beside the fire. “I take it you’re ready to leave. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Vulcan.”

At that, the Vulcan’s façade broke a fraction; a low exhale breezing past her lips. “I must apologise, Captain Georgiou, I cannot leave.”

“Our ship is in orbit…getting the Vulcan wouldn’t be too hard.”

“I _cannot_ _leave_ this planet, Captain. As I have just said.” T’Sol’s voice became stern, emphasising a spout of emotions that was... unfamiliar. She took a breath, composing herself quickly. “I believe I have made myself clear.”

“Captain T’Sol, we can’t just leave you here.” Georgiou pointed out. “The Vulcan High command may demand your return for your wellbeing.”

T’Sol shrugged, arms coming to cross over her chest. “It’s not a simple answer. Haven’t you figured this planet out yet?”

“What’s this planet got to do with anything?” Landry questioned, a hand touching on her phaser with a sense of indignant.

Brown eyes flickered to the commander, “Everything.” The Vulcan moved and picked up her basket. “I would, however, be appreciative if you could inform my husband that I am alive and that I request his presence here. I would also appreciate supplies to be dropped off. The water filter I had, failed on me a few months ago.” T’Sol sat down beside the wok, giving the pot a stir before pulling dumping the veg into a clean bowl of water and began to wash them.

Georgiou’s eyes narrowed. More on the fact that…the woman was just carrying on. Why would the Vulcan want to stay?

“Alright, but me and my team are here to collect the remains of a human. Once we do that, we’ll send a crate of supplies.”

T’Sol’s hand paused in the water. “I do not believe you can accomplish that?”

“Why not?”

With a swish of water, T’Sol was back on her feet, wiping her hands on her shorts. “The Well washed away the bones. It’s connected to a vast underwater system of this region.”

“How are you aware of this?” Landry questioned, suspicion laced within the woman’s posture.

“Because I too attempted to collect the human body for a typical human burial. Unfortunately, I hadn’t the equipment to make such a drop safely at the time. When I did… the slab stone descended and the bones were gone. No doubt to erosion and the planet’s quakes effects.”

Some part of the Vulcan’s words felt true though her gut felt like something wasn’t right. It spiked her curiosity. It sounded like the captain didn’t _want_ her to find Michael’s remains. Which presented a…difficult implication.

“Then I will examine the site nonetheless,” Philippa spoke, her tone hard with authority.

“As you like.”

Philippa looked to both Tilly then Landry. “Landry will stay here and keep you company. Ensign Tilly, you will accompany me.” There was little room of debate and Landry looked pleased with such a command.

With a stern look, Philippa pulled the Ensign with her and immediately headed towards the pit. Tilly threw a few cautious looks behind her as they went, the distance between them and the Vulcan growing.

“That was weird.” Her voice hushed as soon as they were clear.

“Indeed.” Georgiou answered, “Unusual for a Vulcan who hasn’t seen anyone for two years.”

“You think she’s lying?”

“I don’t know what I think, but either Captain T’Sol knows something and isn’t sharing, or she…could have done something with Michael’s remains and doesn’t want us to know.”

Tilly’s eyes widened. “Like… _eat_ her?”

Georgiou shrugged. As gruesome as the idea was; it was on the plate of options. If a Vulcan was hungry enough, then there was that _chance_. “I don’t know, but I’d rather not jump to conclusions without proof.”

“What about Nilsson?”

“We’ll have more people to assist us, but…if we can do this without pissing off the Vulcan who knows more about this planet than we do, the better. If she wants to stay, we have to respect that.”

Her eyes spotted the opening to the pit centre, though she saw that it was all covered over and already has a sort of frame hung over it with a bucket underneath on a rope that looked to be…very Starfleet standard. It was…possible to assume that the captain had used the kits that had been left behind. Not an issue there, of course, it was logical.

“Is this it?”

Georgiou nodded, dropping the bag from her back down, the ensign doing the same before she leant towards the rough wooden planks and tugged them away. Though her gut tenses with each one, only uncovering half before she plucked a torch from her belt and shone it down.

For a split second, she almost thought she’d get the horrendous sight of that slab stone, adorned with the broken skeleton over its surface that…would be in the same position as she had fallen. Seeing that was always a deep-seated fear. Instead, the light bounced over the water. There was no slab in sigh though it was much darker without more light streaming in so she shouldn’t quite make out much more in the shadows.

“Well, there’s some truth that the slab’s gone. But we’ll need to go down. Once Nilsson is here we can—” Philippa stopped as she turned to see Tilly slumped over her bag. Her skin a deathly pale with an odd contrast with the brightness of her orange curls and her blue eyes were open and hazy but sticking out of her neck was a long, dark quill, blood seemed to seep slowly around it, seeping into her uniform.

“Ensign Tilly!”

Georgiou’s heart leapt in her chest but as she shoved herself towards, a sudden grip yanked her head back by her pony-tail. A sharp gasp leaving her lips as she felt the few hairs in her scalp pull free before something stabbed directly into the side of her neck painfully, near the base of her earlobe before a cool sensation seemed to immediate spread like ice into her veins. The sensations to the rest of her body disappearing before her arms dropped and she too found herself falling back into the arms of T’Sol, helplessly paralysed. 

“I apologise, Captain, but your presence here will do more damage. I cannot risk exposure of you to reach my companion’s eyes. She is still healing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dur dur durr.... 
> 
> hehe, yes, I'm a little evil but why make this easy? T'Sol's only looking out for Michael and the sudden out-of-context return from their perspective is surely gonna rock the boat lol, especially with how long it's been. Two years, four months and twenty-seven days since Micheal's death. Philippa is gonna have a lot of explaining to do lol
> 
> As usual, drop some kudos and your thoughts on that you think!


	17. The Vulcan

T’Sol fingers dug into the ground, gently pulling out another long green stem with purple, bulbous parts at the foot of the plant that was filled with seeds. Useful ones. Least now they could get more oil than the last harvest. She tossed them into her basket and continued uprooting for their next meal.

It had been a long time and since 11 months ago they had _really_ started to make progress. Their other rooms, they had turned into a miniature greenhouse and now had a variety of food now it was all coming close to ripening season at their fingertips without having to venture too far. Now, it was functioning well and this was one of the few areas T’Sol enjoyed herself; the greenhouses. Tending to plant needs and working out each other plants soil demands to grow efficiently, how much water they needed and how much light they needed.

Greenhouse work was a necessity to keep food in supply, keeping them supported without much fear of famine. Winter was a few months away and the planet—while the temperature did drop to something Michael enjoyed— the weather and the quakes got worse which drastically altered the growth of their crops.

Michael, from what she had last heard was looking for a corn and wheat-like plants that would be more sustainable through the unpredictable winter. Seen a few miles away, though she knew they’d have to get enough in the ground for them to be ready in time. Though, T’Sol was already thinking about expanding their home. For now, their little space was good but it was small…

T’Sol mused quietly, allowing her mind to wander on how to accomplish the task as she pulled up the long roots and plucked a few leaves off another before dusting herself off and picked up the basket and headed out.

Extending the front would be a more logical approach. Turn the outside fire into an inside kitchen. Which would open the opportunity to add a secondary, completely _new_ room? T’Sol pursed her lips. She’d have to discuss that with Michael and get the plans drawn upon a surface. She—

T’Sol stopped in her tracks as she turned the corner; face with a sudden sight that she had never expected to see. Three human females. Three human Starfleet officers. One, she knew to recognise from service records given the state of the war. Her insides coiled and her pulse increased in her veins, masking her expression quickly, annoyed for allowing herself the slip up in front of an unknown company.

But, one thing she knew, this was _not_ good… not really. If a crew was down here, the ship was up there; while it had supplies, it had transporter technology; a large crew that could…overrule this site. T’Sol though was very relieved though; Michael would be gone a while still; it was a long walk and this was not a surprise she should face.

Especially out of the blue after so long.

This would uproot all the care and emotional trouble Michael had been through after this time. She had to get them off this planet before Michael would see; talk to them with the privacy to spare her; let them understand what they would do. She could be discrete. More than that these officers were doing.

She would also have to talk to Michael. Tell her about Starfleet’s arrival because she’d had the right to know. But this crew? _This_ captain? Maybe she could get another ship to see them, they owed them that.

The human captain moved first, “I’m Captain Philippa Georgiou if the USS Discovery.”

“Captain T’Sol of the USS Utopia.” She answered, gently placing her basket down though there was an ebb at the thought; her loss of ship and crew. She was…just a captain without command. Behind the captain, the two other human women looked to each other sharply, recognition passing through the darker-haired female than the one with orange curls.

Georgiou stepped closer, reserved with emotion. “Forgive me, but…I was under the impression the ship was lost with all hands.”

T’Sol nodded, a statement not completely inaccurate. “I assumed as much, Captain but I was forced onto the surface before the ship’s destruction. I have been here ever since.”

“You’ve been on this planet for 2 years?” Georgiou asked, her tone unabashedly laced with doubt, not that the Vulcan didn’t blame it. “Alone?”

“Yes.” The lie easy to say. Better alone than allow them to suddenly ask about her company.

“I take it you’re ready to leave. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Vulcan.”

At the mention of _home_ , that tugged at her. She did want to return home; experience Vulcan and her people. She missed it’s sun and heat “I must apologise, Captain Georgiou, I cannot leave.”

“Our ship is in orbit…getting to Vulcan wouldn’t be too hard.”

“I _cannot_ _leave_ this planet, Captain. As I have just said.” T’Sol’s couldn’t help but become stern to make her _point_ but… she hated that; _allowing_ such emotion wasn’t very Vulcan of her. She took a breath, composing herself quickly. “I believe I have made myself clear.”

“Captain T’Sol, we can’t just leave you here.” Georgiou pointed out, trying to reason with her. “The Vulcan High command may demand your return for your wellbeing.”

T’Sol shrugged, arms coming to cross over her chest. Clearly they hadn’t done their research, but…maybe they would once they returned to their ship. “It’s not a simple answer. Haven’t you figured this planet out yet?”

“What’s this planet got to do with anything?” Landry questioned.

T’Sol eyed the woman, taking note of her hand on her side-arm but nothing more. It made her weary but she’d know who to go for first. “Everything.” She moved and picked up her basket. “I would, however, be appreciative if you could inform my husband that I am alive and that I request his presence here. I would also appreciate supplies to be dropped off. The water filter I had, failed on me a few months ago.”

T’Sol sat down beside her wok, giving the pot a stir; the broth in the wok a boiling solution for the cocoon pods from silk-worm like creatures at the bottom under the surface; boiled to not only clean the pods but to kill the pupa so they could harvest the threads. Michael had been very proud of this find two months ago; so they could finally make clothes that would be easier to wear in this heat. T’Sol wasn’t to disagree; they needed fabric. She’d need to remove them from boil soon enough.

The Vulcan dropped herself down, and began to clean up her selection of grown-goods for her meal, guests or not, she still had to prepare diner.

“Alright, but me and my team are here to collect the remains of a human. Once we do that, we’ll send a crate of supplies.”

T’Sol’s hand paused in the water. “I do not believe you can accomplish that?”

“Why not?”

Withdrawing her hands, T’Sol rose back to her feet. “The Well washed away the bones. It’s connected to a vast underwater system of this region.” She had to stall if they knew there were no bones to collect; they’d start to wonder…

“How are you aware of this?” Landry questioned, her attitude hardly passing the Vulcan either. No one was...trusting and T’Sol didn’t blame them, but she had her reasons.

“Because I too attempted to collect the human body for a typical human burial. Unfortunately, I hadn’t the equipment to make such a drop safely at the time. When I did… the slab stone descended and the bones were gone. No doubt to erosion and the planet’s quakes effects.” She and Michael had wondered why the Slab had gone. From what they had been able to gather, it might have been a part of stone covering that had fallen decades ago; an attempt to hide the pit.

“Then I will examine the site nonetheless,” Georgiou spoke, this time with an edge that clearly stayed her disbelief; or distrust. Either one mattered little to T’Sol but it was clear she wasn’t going to defuse the idea.

“As you like.”

“Landry will stay here and keep you company. Ensign Tilly, you will accompany me.” 

T’Sol’s eyes flickered to the dark-haired though she watched the orange human nod before the captain began to walk away with her. T’Sol’s eyes returned to the human before she shoved the pot aside; allowing the content to soak a little and gave the wok a prod.

“What’s that?” The woman inquired.

“Silk cocoons. It’s a recent project.” The Vulcan spoke. But besides the wok in a small pot container that was boiling away in the ambers were the remains of the urchin-plant; with a dash of water and the fruit with its quills poking out; boiling realised more of its chemical soup that resided within; boiling the water off increased its potency… Throw it in with another new plant, it was a hallucinogenic to which, T’Sol had been on the misfortune to experience. A very useful painkiller or sedative, depending on how strong it was, a paralytic. She could tell by its gooeyness, it was strong but not all the way to be deadly.

Carefully, T’Sol pulled out the quills, watching the dark green sludge of fruit drop off back into the mess.

“What’s that?” Landry closer, eyes fixed on the quills.

“Urchins. At least, the plant name is for now.” Burnham’s naming, given how closely they looked like sea-urchins from earth’s waters. “It’s a useful medicinal fruit. Here.” She held quills out though the Commander, Landry if she wasn’t mistaken, crept a little closer; tense with uncertainty. “Its potency increased when you boil the water content away. The fruit itself id highly nutritious but if you can separate the pulp from the liquid then you’re not at risk of getting high.”

Landry’s eyes moved from the quills, “Experience?”

“Not one I want to repeat,” T’Sol admitted. “The glands of the compounds reside in the root of the quills; to protect the fruit and seeds, here”

It only took a second really, the human was on edge but the distraction was all she needed to move her move; moving swiftly, her hand grabbing the human’s wrist that was closest to the weapon, she buried the quill into the woman’s chest; the look of surprise and anger washed over the human’s face before the drug laced into her system before she fell against her. T’Sol was quick though, shifting her grip and swiftly carried her over to the tree life and through the bushes by a few yards, coming to a swift stop to a ditch before she lowered Landry down and kicked some of the leaves over the woman’s legs; so the blue didn’t stand out as much.

“I apologise but this is not personal. You will not be harmed but your sudden presence is complicated. My companion will not take well to this so I will ensure your return to your ship” T’Sol spoke, grasping the woman’s chin to look at her; the brown hazy but expected but she knew the woman would hear her. “I will talk to you, but on my terms. I will leave coordinates to a private site where I can explain my situation to Starfleet but every moment now risks unwanted exposure. I do not have time for your questions presently.”

With that, she swiftly began to move, preparing the next quill, she began to move silently through the trees, towards the captain and the ensign, within a second though, the quill pierced through the delate skin; the sound of the wooden covering moving masked the young woman’s surprised sound before succumbing and too slumped like a doll but she shifted around as the Captain’s focus was down in the pit; the human speaking to her companion until she rose and saw the state of her companion.

“Ensign Tilly!” With clear alarm, the human captain had a surprising surge forwards but T’Sol was _faster_ having stuck to a blind-spot, grabbing a hold of the woman’s hair; the grip and force surprising the woman before she shoved the quill into the side of the captain’s neck—the gesture itself satisfying— and within moments, Georgiou slumped. T’Sol’s arms quickly caught her, tiling the human’s face towards her. Blood from the wound already starting to seep

“I apologise, Captain, but your presence here will do more damage. I cannot risk exposure of you to reach my companion’s eyes. She is still healing.”

In the human captain’s eyes, she could almost see the confusion; the bubbling feeling of betrayal but otherwise helpless. T’Sol let go of the quill, not removing it as that’d stop the drug from laying in their systems for as long as she wanted; after removal, she had about 20 minutes before the initial effects would start to wear off. The drug wasn’t at its full potency so she didn’t have to worry about killing them accidentally.

She slipped her arms under the captains back and knees and lifted with ease; the last two years of hard labour had increased her endurance and strength as it did with Burnham, so the human felt incredibly light. She was swift though, bringing her to the same area as Landry and rested her carefully next to her and proceeded with Tilly and their bags though she stepped back to observe the group. She’d have to find a way to get them back…if they transported down, then she’d have to make contact with their ship…

“Excuse me,” T’Sol muttered reaching down and plucked the golden communicator from the captain’s belt and flipped it open, it’s chirping sound echoing.

“Discovery, this is Captain T’Sol, former captain of the USS Utopia.” She spoke clearly. “Your captain and team are alive and well, if a bit drugged via a paralytic but I need you to return them to your ship for treatment. I’ll supply you with the drug sample for your medical team to create an antidote and I’ll retain this communicator; I am not hostile but you and your team are an unwelcome surprise that I do not have the time for presently. I am open to a peaceful talk at a more private location and at an expected time. Any attempt to transport me or my competition will result in my and her death and I’d rather not escalate this situation more than I have.”

There was a second before a voice ran though. “Where is Captain Georgiou?”

“In front of me, approximately 25 feet west from the pit that you’re investigating. She, nor her team are a hostage, I hope that you understand that.”

“Your actions are erratic for someone so is attempting a negotiation.”

“My time table is rushed. Furthering this conversation is redundant so I will make it very simple.” She felt the welt of impatience run though her, enough for her to start pacing, “Two words, Commander, and you will comply because you won’t fail her a second time.”

There was a second. “What two words?”

_“Michael Burnham.”_

If it were possible, she knew she’d have the gazes off all parties in front of her. Their attention maybe but it was hard to tell but Burnham was her gold-card for their obedience. It was logical they’d comply.

“She lives, she’s healing from being left behind by your dear captain, and your presence is sudden and will hurt her more. Collect your team and wait until there is no risk of exposure to her. You owe her that.”

After a second, there was silence. “Yes…..Captain T’Sol.”

Then the line closed though she took the second to pull out another quill and placed it in Tilly’s palm and stepped back and…after a moment the trio were swallowed up into golden light, along with their bags. And for a second, there was nothing but a deep sense of relief but she knew this wouldn’t last long.

T’Sol quickly hurried back to the pit, covering up the entrance again, and put everything back into place before dashing back to the camp, glad to see no signs of much aside from a fallen phaser so she shoved that into the back of her pants and settled by the fire, using the tongs to pull up the blue ‘bags’ of silk cocoons and dropped them into another bowl of water to start the process with another batch.

Getting back to work because… well, what else was she to do in the time between?

* * *

Philippa wanted to groan out in frustration as her vision was swallowed with gold; though her heart was fast and her mind was reeling with the sudden spurt of information at what the Vulcan captain had said.

Burnham. Alive.

By all evidence of the fall, it was _impossible_. The fall killed her. How could the Vulcan suddenly say she was alive?

“Captain!” The voice of Dr Culber echoed though she could see him swim into his vision; from another transport pad; Nilsson’s voice echoing too. His face was pressed with concern, darting to her neck.

“Transport them directly to sickbay, don’t remove the quills just yet, if they’re like a porcupine spine then it’ll be difficult to remove without doing more damage.” He stated, hastily to the side.

Within moments, the white ceiling of Sickbay appeared and Philippa found herself on one of the sickbay’s biobeds before Dr Pollard’s voice echoed instructions before something was noted in Ensign’s Tilly’s hand.

“How are they?” The voiced of Saru suddenly echoed, his pink figure appearing in her peripheral vision though she felt relieved he was here.

“Just running analysis, but it’s clear they were drugged with the same thing,” Culber spoke. “I’ll need to put Captain Georgiou on more oxygen, paralysis is never good with her condition.” The touches to her skin were very soft, but she couldn’t tell though watched vaguely as a tube was lifted towards her face and no doubt slotted into place.

“So it is _only_ paralytic?” Saru pressed.

“Yes, all of them are conscious and alert from what the scans show. Once we get the antidote or when the drug wears off, they’ll be able to interact with us.”

Saru exhaled heavily with relief. “I’m glad to hear it.”

 _Me too_ , Georgiou thought. She couldn’t really be sure the motives behind the intent, if Burnham had survived, Philippa felt likely to agree and sympathise but…there was no evidence to suggest Burnham had survived; they could barely get readings on the surface to get life signs until they were on it It could just be another human that she could be using to pass off as a reason to keep them at arm’s length but… they needed more information.

* * *

“Here we go.”

Philippa broke out of her mind as she heard the hiss of the hyposprays before warmth and sensation seemed to spread out from her neck, all the way down to her fingertips and toes like she had been doused in warm water.

She inhaled deeply and winced at the pull of her sternum though the expansion of her lungs hardly felt any better beyond having the proper sensation of it. The dull pain though had come back a little bit sharper and less pleasant. It had been so…easy to forget about that without the connection.

“It’ll take a moment for your senses to realine, your balance mostly so don’t get up,” Pollard spoke, a few hisses and groans from the other biobeds indicating the rest of the team were freed from the confided of their bodies.

“That…was unpleasant.” Tilly groaned out, though gently began to move, sitting up.

Philippa pushed herself up as well, her hand coming to her chest before pulling away the tubes from her face.

“Captain. Permission to shoot the Vulcan when we next see her?” Landry asked, “I saw what she was doing but…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry captain, I should have known better.”

Georgiou nodded once though accepted another hypospray jab and allowed Dr Culber to continue his scans. “How long has it been since we’ve been pulled up?”

“Five hours and…twenty-six minutes ago.” Saru’s figure coming back in, “We’ve kept constant monitoring on the planet and I have other teams working on research of the energy field.”

Philippa nodded. “Can you isolate her biosignature?”

Saru’s head tilted, “The Vulcan?”

“yes.”

“Since she still has the communicator on her, yes. The signal from that is enough to puncture the field but….she did say the transport might kill her, Captain.”

“She may as well be lying, Commander Saru.” Georgiou huffed, clambering unsteadily from the biobed. “To stop us getting her off the planet by force. We don’t have all the facts and she knows the planet more than we do. She attacked us and kicked us off the planet and I’m not willing to have that happen again. Get a security team and transport her directly to the brig.”

“Aye… Captain.”

Georgiou ignored the concern and doubt in the commander’s voice before she took her leave to change into a clean set of uniform. Sure, she was aware of the Vulcan’s demand that…Saru was taking more to heart but she’d allow Saru to be the one to worry. She couldn’t afford that. Not when the woman played so dirty with using Michael as an excuse for drugging them and to get them off the planet’s surface.

Michael Burnham was dead.

Dead people do not come back to life and she’d not allow anyone to think it was okay to lie about that or to use her name. She was not that weak.

* * *

Her eyes stayed ahead as she watched the cell with its containment field up, bare and empty as usual though she was kind enough to put in a new change of clothes for her; a Vulcan brand of clothes as it was more comfortable for a Vulcan.

“Energise.”

Gold light started to fill the small cube before a lone figure began to form within and within a second, Captain T’Sol was standing in it’s centre, a bowl of fruit in her hands; her eyes turning wide before her head whipped around, looking horrified; and expression not much seen on a Vulcan’s face.

“ _What_ have you _done_?!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....you can't exactly blame either of them really, lol. 
> 
> hehe I was planning on writing more yesterday and posting it as my birthday treat for you all but...it was soooo hoott!!! So you got it a day later on a cooler day :) 
> 
> Anyway, hope you've liking how this is going, drop your thoughts, ideas and as usual, your kudos :) I do appreciate them all and thanks for getting this far :)


	18. Transported

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to get out, I've side-tracked into making a few new art pieces (you can find this easily, it's under a similar title) that compliments areas of text. Like her post-fall, start of her ressurection and the one i'm working on now is how she looks after two years on the planet. 
> 
> Please check them our and if you do, please drop your thoughts on it and what other scenes you'd want me to draw out! I could do with fresh ideas.  
> Also, don't forget to Kudo! I'd appreacte that very much :)

T’Sol’s heart raced as she felt the cool metallic floor under her bare, callous feet; too cool that it felt like ice against her flesh; too used to the humid air of the planet and the warm stone from the sun beams that had spent the day spilling over it… Even the air was too cool now and she felt the Goosebumps over her skin that wasn’t covered by her vest and shorts.

The air was too sterile and clean; no scent of the wood, mud or even the herb solution from the wok as they boiled the next lot of cocoons down; there wasn’t even the lingering scent of Michael which really showed her for a second how…alone she felt.

The lights stung her eyes, far more used to the natural light of the sun and wood and too big than the small lights from the kits….

All in all, it was a little overwhelming but… T’Sol felt wrong.

It was a coldness in her chest like a knife of ice was there; twisting around in her guts but no pain. Yet. A disconnect from the warmth of the planet like she had lost part of herself; and now…she felt it linger and grow slowly. It would only be a matter of time before....

“Send me back!” The words leaving her moth quickly, urgently for this human captain to understand. She couldn’t stay here. Her fingers gripped her bowl more tightly, feeling the terracotta crack under her fingertips.

Georgiou’s face didn’t change, nor looked surprised at her reaction that bothered her more. Did this human simply not understand the gravity of the situation? What position she was now faced if she stayed here? Or how this put Michael….

T’Sol’s train of thought halted before she felt a fresh wave of emotion that she masked from her expression, mining it quickly back before it could overwhelm her. Michael had come back… she’d have seen her transported away.

Oh…that was not good. All her effort… it was plummeting.

“No.”

“You are not harmed, I have already given you adequate information that would have surfaced until _I_ was ready… _this_ is not the time. I cannot survive on this ship.” T’Sol answered back, dropping her bowl down; unneeded now as she approached the barrier between her and the human.

Georgiou’s expression didn’t change though she shifted closer too, with a sense of both curiosity and caution.

“That remains to be seen, but you did attack myself, my team and forced us from the surface, that in itself breached many Starfleet protocols that could, if any of my officers wanted, lead you to be charged for.”

“My actions are justified.”

“Yes, as you said but I find it…hard to believe such an outrageous statement against my former first officer.” The human’s tone shifted, echoes of emotion flickering behind the humans eyes; anger, as she had seen in Michael’s many times. “Michael Burnham is _dead_.” Her tone fell cold.

“Yes, she died.” T’Sol agreed. “Just like I did on that planet. It’s not a _normal_ planet, captain.”

Georgiou scoffed, shaking her head with heavy scepticism. “You’ve been down there too long if you’ve deluded yourself to think that. _Nothing_ brings back the dead. Captain T’Sol. Dead is dead. I saw her body. There’s no science that can prove otherwise.”

“No one’s tried.” But she felt an ebb of fear; not for herself but…for the fact that this human may not even _believe_ the truth. Even if…she did see Michael, this captain might not believe she was really her; not only reopening old wounds but…that’d certainly create more. If she died here again….on this ship by this captain’s hand… could the planet bring her back? Or would Michael be alone?

If Burnham knew she had been transported; it was logical to assume the woman had seen and fled and hid; to escape a transport lock…

“Captain,” T’Sol tried again, “Michael is alive. Blood pumps though her veins, her heart beats in her chest. But… _we_ can only stay alive _on_ the planet. I…I _have_ to return. I’m running on a battery here. I don’t want to die again.” She could feel _that_ coldness. More so now in her finger tips; they were starting to feel cool and her mouth started to feel dry. “There’s no logic to keep me here. I cannot escape the planet and I need my camp; you know where to find me.”

Her eyes watched the human, how her head tilted, the purse of her lips to and the emotion that lingered there but she could feel in her gut…this woman was not believing her.

“There’s plenty of logic in _my_ reasoning, Captain.” Georgiou smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Until you’re willing to speak the truth, I’ll be waiting to hear it. I’ll send down Dr Pollard and allow her to run a few tests to ensure your health and get you a proper meal. There’s a change of clothes there, should you need it.” Nodding passed her but T’Sol didn’t turn but watched with a clenched jaw as Captain Georgiou turned and walked back out.

* * *

The captain hadn’t been incorrect on the matter of getting a medic down to her but T’Sol hadn’t gotten up from the pathetic brig bed that was far more uncomfortable than the floor of her camp since she lay down on it; legs becoming weaker that left her unable to stand. She could hear a collection of people though kept her back turned to the force field. No doubt a hoard of security guards.

Her fingertips had started to become numb so she kept them balled up and curled against her chest, her insides felt like ice and she could feel the dryness in her mouth was not exclusive; there was the familiar ebbs of dehydration throughout her body, though she felt the beads of water soak into her clothes…it gave her cramp and moving was a little more difficult. She could feel her heart in her lower torso beat faster and her breath speed up. All in all, she felt like she was rotting, from the inside out…much more now.

Much _quicker_.

She didn’t have long left.

Reaching a tipping point now; after that, the point of no return would seal her fate…

“Captain T’Sol.” The voice was familiar, Landry if she wasn’t mistaken but there was clear signs of distaste in the woman’s voice. “Dr Pollard is here, stay where you are and any attempts of attacking or escaping will be met with a stun shot.”

T’Sol said nothing though closed her eyes.

“There’s no need for that, Commander Landry.” This was a new voice, a male though not human that mildly flagged the Vulcan’s attention though there was an almost silent shiver before she felt a cool breeze against her back.

“Captain T’Sol, I’m going to run a few scans then I’ll need you to comply with my orders.”

“If…you must.” T’Sol whispered softly though carefully and slowly rolled around onto her back, her head spinning with a wave of nausea though the sudden change of position almost knocked the air from her weakened lungs; even the motion of breath was harder to take. The sounds of the tricorder echoed though T’Sol cracked open her eye to see the doctor standing over her but there was frown in the woman’s face; confusion then concern at what she was reading.

“You’re dehydrating and you’re slowing symptoms of…hypoxia…” her hand slipped down, pulling her curled hands up though T’Sol watched vaguely and surprised to see her fingers no longer a beige but a darkening green and her fingernails were blackening. “Your oxygen levels are too low. We have to get you to sickbay.”

There was no room for argument before T’Sol found her sight swimming in gold as the Doctor called for emergency transport.

There was a momentary second of silence before she heard Dr Pollard bark orders, becoming aware of the tubes coming to her nose though she felt her strength weaken, the coldness seeping much quicker…

“Some bones are showing cracks, there seems to be bruising appearing at the skin…”

“What? There weren’t any before.” Pollard remarked to the other doctor though the Vulcan groaned, a wave of nausea washing through her before she felt a new sensation of pain in her gut… like something was pressing down… leaving her unable to breath in… then suddenly, pain radiated down, hearing the sounds of wet cracks echoing up her before she felt the hot searing agony….her screams dying in her throat before she could make it as hot cooper suddenly filled her mouth before her eyes rolled back and everything plummeted into darkness…

* * *

Pollard tried to stabilise the Vulcan but the sudden and abrupt deteriation was too advanced to her to keep up with. The scans were had showed a mild case of oxygen deviving and dehydration that had suddenly turned into something that resembled mechanical asphyxia and that went with crushed-related injuries.

On the Bio bed, the Vulcan confused, rasping and clawing for air— her hands pulling a hyposprays but before she could administer it, green blood suddenly began to escape the Vulcan’s mouth, loud wet cracks echoing...

“Suction, clear her airways!” She demanded to one of the nursed, injecting the hyposprays though she watched as the Vulcan gurgled up more blood down her chin before she suddenly fell still…

Then the monitor of the woman’s heart beat suddenly dragged on…

She was dead.

* * *

“You were supposed to check up on her, how in the hell did this happen?” Philippa growled out with frustration as she hovered over the Vulcan’s covered body. From the look of the scans, it didn’t look like some sort of accident; the injuries on the scans looked bad and the fact was, she knew that this Vulcan didn’t come here _with_ those injuries.

“The deterioration was abrupt, Captain.” Pollard spoke up, “we compared her transporter pattern to the scans here; she had no injuries. No cuts, no bruises and no indication of internal trauma that could use this.”

“None?” Saru echoed, “at all?”

“None.” Pollard confirmed, “She was…in perfect health. Especially given spending over two years here.”

“What caused the injuries?” Philippa pressed softly, “I know no one beat her, so…”

Pollard again, looked hesitant to answer. “The…injuries are consistent with heavy mass directly into the top of the body. Hundreds of pounds and _sudden_ to create this sort of damage. Crushed, essentially. Hypoxia suggested beforehand that the Vulcan was already experiencing breathing difficulties before the internal injuries kicked up.”

“how does a Vulcan get crushed in an open sickbay?” Philippa couldn’t understand it.

“Old injuries?” Saru spoke up. “She…did say she died on the planet and that removing her from it would kill her.”

Eyes turned to the Kelpien though Philippa’s jaw clenched. Of course, Saru was a believer but…she couldn’t afford to think like that.

“Maybe we should transport the body back, if this planet is so…special as Captain T’Sol claimed, she can tell us all about it if she comes back again.” Saru carried on, his brow deepening.

Philippa frowned, refraining a response of ‘lack of evidence’ but…the state of the Vulcan Captain muddied the water in that respect.

 _“Captain, we’re getting a Hail from the surface.”_ Bryce called through the comms

The captain’s head jerked up in surprise. “A hail?”

“From the shuttle, we left it on the planet.”

She had all but forgotten that detail. “I’ll be on the bridge in a moment.” Her attention turned back to Saru and Pollard. “Bag her and put her on a gurney and meet me in the transporter.”

* * *

Georgiou stepped out onto the bridge, the familiar ringing beeps echoing around, eyes turning to her with caution in all of their expressions, some hurried themselves back to their monitors.

“Open the channel.” She sunk down into her chair, the line opening though there was a second of silence.

_“Transporting someone in mid-conversation is incredibly rude, Starfleet. Return the Vulcan Captain to our home. I’m sure she told you she can’t leave the planet, by now I’m sure you’re seeing that. Burnham out.”_

A dreaded feeling flooded her stomach; the line abruptly closing but the words—the voice lingered that tinged the air around her, leaving her feeling like all the warmth was gone from both the air and within her, her lungs feeling like she had been winded and her throat was tight as if a cord was wrapped around her windpipe.

The voice was clear and crystal; though the demand was clearly laced with anger, there was no mistake; the voice was Michael Burnham’s.

Her fingers tightened onto her chair, forcing a mask onto her face as she felt the hot gazes of the crew.

“Airiam, you have the con.” Her voice held strong though she hopped out her chair quickly, the gesture pulling at her chest in a new searing pain but she all but flung herself into the turbolift. In her chest, she could feel her heart quicken; emotions threatened to rise but she fought them back; she had done that so well the last two years, she’d not let it tip now. Not before she could see her.

She _had_ to see her. If…if she was alive, then she _had_ to. Philippa could only imagine what had happened in the time between, but… she was sure Michael would want to see her as well. After so long; the sudden death was…devastating.

“Captain?” A note of concern drew her attention was she walked into the Transporter room, being met with no only Saru but also Landry and Tilly. The young ensign fiddling with her fingers but clearly wanted to come back down again having heard the news.

“Let’s go.” She knew Landry was ready to voice her complaints but Philippa was glad the woman knew restraint. T’Sol’s body was ready on the transporter pad and secured on the Gurney; one that this one hovered than wheeled legs; much easier to push through the trees or carry manually.

They all stepped onto the transporter pad, and with a curt nod, Philippa’s vision filled with gold….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, well, i was tempted to carry this on but... i want the grand meet up in a fresh chapter :) I want full emotions and i can totally get that! Plus, we'll get to see our Dear Michael and how she's been doing for the last two years hehe


	19. Philippa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this took much longer than I planned but I've been getting sidetracked into another fandom of mine and trying to get to an original book of mine. So chapters may take a little longer coming out as a result.

Michael flicked the braid out of her face, hoisting up the large basket with their latest in goodies. While not exactly what she was looking for, it was the second best. There was nothing similar in design that looked like wheat or corn, she had found a collection of plants that grew in pods with a ton of thin leaves on top, it’s main body were filled with blood-red beans. One, she had split open, had a texture that looked like it could be ground for flour, _red_ flour maybe but something they could cook with; something more _interesting_.

Michael had taken the opportunity to fill the basket up to it’s brim so they’d use some for eating and planting. Carefully slipping the straps around her shoulder, she carefully manoeuvred it onto her back, adjusting herself with the weight but nothing she couldn’t handle given how long she had been here for.

In all honesty, despite the hardship of living on this planet, with only a Vulcan for company, there was a sense of...peace and reward. Seeing all her work, all T’Sol’s work actually produce results, stuff they could use and learning as she went.

One thing she did hate the most was dealing with metal works. But, that had produced a Wok that they needed. Sure, it took almost two years and a ton of errors but they were _finally_ getting the fruit of their labours and things were starting to feel easier to live with.

When she got back, Michael was pleased to see T’Sol working on the cocoons, spindling up threads onto a feel from them though something about her seemed troubled. Even for a Vulcan.

“Everything alright?” she asked, settling the basket down, “Did you lose a cocoon or….broke a thread? Do I need to fix the spindle?”

T’Sol looked up, distracted before her focus returned quickly “Hm? Oh, no. This is working well, for something rudimentary.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” Michael replied dryly but couldn’t disagree. For her, as long as it worked, it was fine. “How’s it going?”

T’Sol paused, turning to look at the collection they had. “It’s too little that we can use for useable cloth but this is only our _first_ batch, er still have many to boil. This task is very tedious.”

“Then we save it for the next season if there’s not enough in the next batches.” She plucked out one of the pods and held it out to the Vulcan, ignoring the other remark; she knew all to well of the tedious jobs but this was necessary. “I think I might be some sort of corn, I can plant a good portion from one pod and unpack these for grinding into flour.”

T’Sol felt the pod with one hand, keeping the spindle going with the other vaguely but nodded. “Then do so. Flour two-thirds of what’s left and dry out the rest. I’ll plant the others later.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Michael set aside T’Sol’s work and stripped back and tied the leaves together to make the two act as an anchor as she looped one over the hanging shelves, before grabbing the Mortar and pestle before tugging the heavy stone tools out to the worksite, settling down a few meters from T’Sol.

Fingers pierced though the shell, depositing the beans into the mortar. To which, Michael was glad to note that they were quite dry to what she expected so she began to crush them gently with the pestle.

* * *

“Starfleet’s returned,” T’Sol spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Michael’s head jerked up, surprised for a moment to hear the sudden announcement before she felt an odd twist in her gut as she registered what the Captain _meant_.

“What?” Her fingers tightened on the pestle though the gut feeling made her heart flutter with a sense of…nerves and discomfort. The implications ran wild… why would they come back? Why now? Michael took a breath. “I take it you saw them?”

“Indeed. I asked them to wait for further contact from me. I know that you’re left with old wounds with Starfleet. I felt that it would be better for me to inform you of their arrival then to have them suddenly appear.”

Michael inhaled deeply, setting down her tools though nodded with a sense of gratitude. T’Sol knew her well to anticipate it. While she had come to…terms with everything, there was a lot she hadn’t been able to get closure from… and it left her with a sense of anger and dissatisfaction.

“Thank you.”

“They’ve left their shuttle about a half a mile away, North East; close to the iron and copper deposits.”

Again, Michael nodded, tucking that information away for later. Given it was left behind, she could assume the group had transported away. Perhaps… they could _keep_ the shuttle, sure they couldn’t go to any ship or off the planet too far but it would be…very helpful in traversing this planet quickly.

“Would you like me to keep you in the loop or would you prefer coming into contact with them?”

“I don’t know, but…. I suppose sooner or later, I’ll have to meet them. Which ship is it? I assume it’s to continue planetary research.” A science vessel, maybe.

T’Sol didn’t answer. “As of the moment, I feel inclined to withhold that information. Later, I will tell you.”

Michael glowered but nodded. Some part of her had a hunch but… she hoped that was wrong. Right now, they had to continue with their daily work.

* * *

Michael mulled quietly as the few hours passed and they finally had a good amount of red powered flour, though they were mildly interrupted as a lingering flying-Lemur attempted to steal one of their pots of fruit pulp. Michael ended up smoking up some dried, urchin-soaked leaves that gave off a subtle smell that acted well as a deterrent.

“You know, this is the third time that mammal has attempted our food the last couple of days” Michael grumbled, wiping her hands down herself, sitting down at the doorway of their camp, enjoying the moments of quiet. “Do you think it’d be an idea to try and train it?”

“You mean as a _pet_?” T’Sol inquired, an arched eyebrow rising further.

“Why not? Pets are useful.”

“Not all the time. What would you even do with it?”

“Get high fruit, places where we’re too big to get to, train it to _stop_ eating and stealing from us…” Michael listed, “I can let you name it…” She prodded with a smirk.

T’Sol’s lips pursed though looked to consider her words. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good.” Michael rose to her feet. “Now, I’ll get lunch ready, why don’t you collect up the last of the cocoons and prep them for boiling.”

T’Sol nodded. “A reasonable request. I’ve also begun designs for a loom. It’ll take a few months to construct but…. I don’t see why not now we’ve got more materials for it.” Nodding to the reel of white, silvery thread.

Michael nodded, “Glad to hear it.” She picked up a few of the redundant bowls, handing the fruit to T’Sol and was just pulling out the chopping board when T’Sol began to speak.

“After lunch, I want to—“ but before she was finished, she was suddenly swallowed away.

Bright gold light lit up the entire surface before Michael had pulled out her knife but within a second; she knew what had happened.

She had been transported.

Off planet.

“Oh….No… no, no, no…” Her eyes widened. No… that…that wasn’t good. By all accounts, she knew that T’Sol would have been able to inform of the ship that they couldn’t leave…why did they do this?

“Shit.”

* * *

Michael found her way towards the shuttle, almost missing it but T’Sol’s directions were impeccable. Her jaw clenched at the registry but didn’t allow her mind to dwell on that—she couldn’t afford to with T’Sol’s life on the line. Clambering into something so high-tech after so long being away was odd but she didn’t hesitate to flick the power on, bring it to life before she began to hail the ship.

It was received but didn’t pick up but she waited; someone was going to answer. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her breath was baited as the seconds ticked into minutes before she heard the familiar tell-tale signs but she didn’t leave room for them to answer first.

_“Transporting someone in mid-conversation is incredibly rude, Starfleet. Return the Vulcan Captain to our home. I’m sure she told you she can’t leave the planet, by now I’m sure you’re seeing that. Burnham out.”_

With that, Michael forced the line closed and walked out the shuttle.

Her steps echoed as she walked. T’Sol was probably dead by now. A feeling that sparked a sense of fury within her veins at the carelessness of Starfleet. They knew and yet…they still hurt her. T’Sol didn’t deserve that but… Michael hoped that the water again could help bring her back. The body would be intact and they could revive her again.

She _hoped_.

She didn’t want to lose her friend.

The pit was cleared and she prepped the rope down for T’Sol’s body. At least this way, she could pull her up then take the long trek to the tunnel. God, T’Sol might have to endure Pon Farr _again_ …. Michael pulled a face, kicking a stone angrily.

The anger felt good… no, she wasn’t angry, she was _furious_. If it was Discovery… then there had to be a lot of explaining to do. Her hands clenched around her crudely male blade

Georgiou.

There was both a slither of panic at the idea of her, the desire to both see her former captain but…to keep her away. Fury though… that too was aimed at her. _Now_ , Philippa had the time to come here, Now, Philippa seemed to think it was…alright to suddenly come back to her and think that all is well. No. Michael knew she was not the woman who had fallen to her death. She had matured as a person here, Endured so much, forced to move on; even if T’Sol had held her over a high drop to force her through it. How could Philippa just…. _ignore_ any and all warning Captain T’Sol gave her?

Michael knew she felt the unhealed edges of _hurt_. Philippa left her behind here. _Abandoned_. Not an uncommon feeling by her past.

Orphaned by the Klingons and raised by a Vulcan; living a life that made understanding her emotions hard, breaking up her relationship with her brother up after the bombing… a lonely childhood enduring what came with the human-stigma the Vulcan’s had against humans. Then…Starfleet. A home that she had become a part of; enabling her to understand her humanity.

Then she messed it up. Out of fear. Crippling her ties to everyone. Respect was gone long before she was stripped to nothing. She had almost lost the captain and that made her want to curl up in a ball and die so many times in prison…. Then she had to face Philippa once again on Discovery. But…she was not welcomed there. The only few sheds of light were Tilly’s warmth and the...idea of redemption.

Being abandoned wasn’t new, not really but it hurt all the same. This one though… this could have been avoided. She could have dealt with it….if Starfleet never showed back up.

Gold light shone in her peripheral vision but Michael’s adrenaline spike, her focus though didn’t even _touch_ the people around; only to the one on the gurney as she hurried towards them. T’Sol.

“Michael?!” Her name was called but it felt muted.

“ _Get her to the pit now_ ,” Michael demanded outright, her eyes staying to T’Sol’s form, getting close enough to see the familiar damage across the Vulcan’s form. It almost made her wince. Clearly indicated that their sewn-up injured of their first death undid itself. Bone re-breaking, organs rupturing… from the amount of blood, T’Sol didn’t have the luxury of it being quick without the _actual_ cause of death there. Though she could feel that rigour mortis had set in but the way her skin texture was looking, it was looking like she was _dehydrating_. No doubt back into her mummified state. Damn it

Her impatient got the better of her as she began pulling the gurney herself though she knew her demeanour had surprised the four officers, they seemed to be shocked enough for her to do this without being overwhelmed by suddenly exclaiming anything or attempting to hug her—she had a hunch it was the knife in her hand that was the real reason with her mood.

“Burnham.”

“Not now, Saru. _This_ first.”

She could feel Philippa’s stare, her expression that bore into the side of her head but Michael was glad to focus on her T’Sol problem first. She pulled the rope towards her and began to wind it around T’Sol’s waist and secured it around her shoulders. Tilly though seemed to help and began to help with lifting the Vulcan from the gurney to the edge of the pit.

“What now?”

Michael’s reply was simple, pulling the rope and nudged the body off into the pit, swinging down but Michael didn’t hesitate to start loosening her grip and observe as the Vulcan disappeared down… and into the water. She tied the rope to the framework before the fact that the four officers were there really caught up with her.

Her fingers tightened on her blade though she forced herself to slip it into her waistband and turned around, her hardened expression meeting the tense face of Landry, the shocked but soft faces of Saru and Tilly and the…devoid expression of Philippa Georgiou.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” Michael spat angrily. “I’m sure Captain T’Sol gave you all the information about our status on this planet _before_ you killed her.”

There was a moment of silence that ran between them, though Michael glared mostly to Philippa before she felt the tight sensation in her throat but she shook her head. Turning her eyes to anyone but the captain.

Tilly moved first, her arm rising and this… Michael couldn’t resist, moving off the edge and immediately allowed the red head’s arms around her; the familiar smell of perfume and shampoo filling her nose though… it took a few seconds before Michael felt able to hug her back. She had missed her…red hair and personality. 

“I missed you,” Tilly spoke, muffled by her shoulder. “I… I didn’t want to believe that you were dead and… I’m so sorry!” The sudden shaking, along with splashes of hot drops wasn’t hard to miss but Michael rubbed her back comfortingly

“You’re not the one at fault here, Tilly,” Michael whispered quietly, encouraging her back with a soft expression. Tilly’s eyes had become more bloodshot and her skin pink and puffy, tears filled them quickly though seeing her…. Michael felt glad to see her.

“I just….have one question,”

“Shoot,” Tilly sniffed.

“When did the war end?” Clearly, the war had to have ended for them to come here but…something just didn’t feel right.

“Ten months ago,” Saru spoke for her, stepping forwards. “Discovery had quite a hand in pushing the Klingons back and accept an armistice.” 

Michael’s eyes turned to him but she felt her expression cool back to a mask.

“Ten months. Interesting.” Ten months, they could have come back to her ten months ago. Spare her and T’Sol almost another year of struggling. “I guess there’s a lot I’ll need to be filled in with, assuming you’ll want information that I have as well about this rock and…well how I’m stilling kicking.” She looped an arm around Tilly’s and took the lead back to the camp. It’ll be hours before T’Sol woke.

“Burnham, do you not realize what has actually happened?” Landry started, “The Vulcan attacked us and forced us off the planet, I don’t—“

“Not now, Commander Landry.” Georgiou’s voice cut the woman off but hearing her voice only stuck a chord within her. “Stay quiet unless one of us is in actual danger.”

Michael smirked, but only because the expression that crossed the woman’s face offered her a sense of satisfaction. “Right now, I need to cook. T’Sol’s gonna be a nightmare and hungry when she’s back. Let’s multi-task, shall we?” She didn’t wait, but she sat down beside the fire though Tilly’s expression turned curious about. “You can look around but…don’t touch anything that I wouldn’t.”

Tilly gave a small smile but didn’t get up.

“What happened, Michael?” Georgiou spoke, settling down on a spare log, Saru followed suit but much more discomforted from the smaller size of everything. “I… I thought that...” She didn’t finish but her expression had shifted; exposing the sense of vulnerability in her face but

“I died. You were gone. I’ve been surviving here ever since.” Oh so factual. Michael though began to pull a few pots into the embers, filling some with water to boil before she began to cut up some roots. “My only company was the Vulcan and…well we’ve begun to set up a home here. Things are…getting easier now we’ve got metal and our crops are taking well.”

“That’s good.” Tilly agreed, “Can I try some of it, once it’s done?”

Michael shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

“How’ve you been?”

Michael’s knife paused though she felt her jaw tightened. “Tilly, Four doors down and on the far left, you’ll find a barrel of root-like potatoes soaking in water. Can you get a few of them that feel like rubber?”

“Landry will help,” Georgiou added.

The two nodded though they both knew why they were being asked to leave. Saru looked to her but after a moment, he too left, this time in the direction of the pit. Leaving her with Georgiou.

Alone.

Michael swallowed thickly. Trying to squash the worms in her stomach but it didn’t work as well as she wanted to. Instead, she pushed her knife into the deep green flesh of the root and severed it in half, twisting the blade to pluck out the inedible core and threw it into the fire.

“I’m sorry.” The words were so quiet, Michael almost missed them. A part of her wanted to. Pretend that Philippa wasn’t even here. But that was Illogical so she had to deal with this now.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot you think you need to apologies, Captain, but right now, I don’t need those.” Michael started coolly, “It won’t erase what happened and I don’t want to hear it.”

Georgiou sighed heavily out, “I don’t know what to say, Michael. If I had known you were alive I would have come straight back.”

“There’s no way you could have known.” Michael answered, “But….” She paused, “but why did it take you _ten months_ to get here after the war ended?”

“That’s not an easy answer, Michael.”

“Then _explain_ , Philippa!” Michael snapped before she closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter that I can’t leave, it doesn’t matter that I had died…it was an accident. Sure, I wasn’t actually needed on the missing to start with but…I would have hoped _you_ of all people would have put in the effort to come sooner. I can…understand perhaps one of two months to clear up but…almost an entire year…” That she couldn’t wrap her head around.

Philippa’s head bowed, her eyes looked large and wet but that didn’t tug at her as much as she would have thought. She didn’t want Philippa’s guilt.

“I’m not _upset_. I’ve come to terms with my situation and…the company,” nodding towards the pit. “I thought I had come to terms with the fact no one was coming. Took me months for that one, actually.” Her knife cut through the flesh easily, harder than anticipated and cut into the board, narrowly missing her finger in the process.

“Starfleet…didn’t want me to come. At all.” Georgiou spoke up, her voice still quiet. “I…didn’t want to face this planet, even after a year.”

Michael said nothing but…she was glad she didn’t fill her reasoning with an all-Starfleet-ordered excuse, as valid as they were. There was honesty that…softened her anger a little bit more.

“Sarek and Amanda had up a private service for you on Vulcan, somehow…he knew before Starfleet was informed.”

“How are they?”

“Sarek is…Sarek. Hard to tell. It’s…taken Amanda a while to recover.”

A twinge of guilt twisted her gut a little. She didn’t expect much from Sarek, not really but… she should have known her death would have impacted her mother deeply.

“And…Spock?”

“I don’t know. I…never got to see him.”

Michael out a short breath, swallowing the tightness in her throat. How he of all people that would have reacted, she didn’t know…after what she had done, if he was upset or not, was an unsettling mystery. Maybe…she could request him to visit if Enterprise were to pass by?

After a moment, Michael set the tools and veg aside, stirring the boiling pots before she turned her focus back to the Captain, rising to her feet. Her long braids slipped from behind her shoulder as she stepped towards her. Philippa rose to her feet though, her posture tense, as if expecting her to suddenly shout at her but Michael watched her brown eyes take her in fully.

“I know that…I _want_ to shout, I _want_ to be pissed at you. I am furious for your actions with T’Sol but that’s not a now-conversation. But…I’m…” Michael paused, “I’m just… glad to see you, Philippa.”

Her hands rose and…after a second, Georgiou moved, stepping into her space and her arms suddenly wrapping around her into a tight hug. Against her chest, Michael could feel the rapid beats of Philippa’s heart but she couldn’t help but hug her back allowing herself to let Philippa back in… even now, she felt like she could handle her back in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, at least part of it :) I did want Micheal to be furious at Philippa but... in all honesty, no one was really at fault here; having been raised by Vulcans and been living with one, going complete drama-queen if very unlikely for Micheal and...she probably missed her too much under her anger at what happened with T'Sol. That doesn't mean suddenly arriving is something Michael's happy about but i felt it was addressed :) Feel free to tell me otherwise. 
> 
> As usual, drop some kudos, your comments, I'd love to hear what you've liked so far :)


	20. Saru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God...this took so long to get out! I'm soo sorry!! Sorry it's not the longest but the next ones Might be a little longer but I'll see.
> 
> i would have done it a little sooner but I got wrapped up in nanowri.mo this year so everything just... was delayed, including my vamp fic and stuff. My muse for this fic has faded a little as well, and for Milippa as a ship but it's too late to change things now lol. given everything, romance isn't gonna be a heavy topic.
> 
> nonetheless, please drop you comments and thoughts. I'm open to hearing them and don't forget to drop some kudos XD

It felt nice to hug her, to hug anyone really. T’Sol didn’t offer since after her break-down and she knew better to ask but this…this gave her more comfort in a while, one she hadn’t realised she had missed. Physical contact. It stuck her with a wave of nostalgia that Philippa still smelt the _same_. A pleasant scent she had missed just as much as a hug.

“You smell nice.” She mumbled, sniffling a little though quite suddenly, she felt a sudden set of arms around her and the flash of orange.

Philippa chuckled against her, the hum echoing through her chest though, after a moment, Philippa pulled away, her hand coming to her chest support to adjust it, though Tilly’s arms shifted to just hug her instead though much tighter. Michael smiled, patting the woman’s back softly.

Tilly pulled away with a sigh then looked to both her and the captain. “Sorry, saw a hug happening, couldn’t resist. Sorry if that spoiled anything.” Passing an apologetic look but Philippa smiled as well.

“It’s alright, Ensign.” She assured.

Michael stepped back though by the woman’s feet were a few of the potatoes she had asked for in a small pot. She bent down and picked it up, given each one a good squeeze to test how soft they were before she put them down to prepare.

“So, what now?” Tilly’s head cocked. “I mean…you can’t come back with us but we…can’t just leave you here too.”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know, but…for now. I’m glad you’re here and…I still need to get my food prepped, I can debrief you on everything and…vice versa. I’m curious to know more since my…somewhat forced departure.”

“I’ll have Saru contact Admiral Cornwell, I have a feeling she’ll want to talk to you and….I doubt she’ll believe me without seeing you.” Georgiou spoke, coming to settle back onto a log, wincing at the pull to her chest, the others drifting back now.

The Kelpien in question looked to the captain then nodded if a bit stiffly. Michael made a mental note to talk to him privately as well as she sat down and began to prep food on the board,

“We’ll send down supplies, Clothes, food, tools. We can keep a team here if we’re recalled to help around…”

“I’ll stay!” Tilly volunteered, her hand shooting up. “This place looks awesome and I do have holiday time saved up.”

Though touching, Michael found herself chuckling, sitting back down. “If anyone stays. They’re here to help, which means foraging, building and planting stuff. Everyone pulls their weight. I can’t afford to not have my general chores done each day.” Which meant though… they’ll have to rethink on their gardens, perhaps expand if there are a lot more mouths to feed. But with any extra set of hands came a lot more work than would be done quickly nonetheless.

“I think that’s…agreeable,” Philippa spoke. “Though the teams will be assigned to help with gathering data about everything.”

“Of course, why don’t you take the data we collected and work from that?” Michael hopped up and retrieved the tricorder she had and held it out. “Should provide scans of plant life, T’Sol, me, that water in the pit…” Pretty much everything concerning this immediate area. They had wanted to be precise on what they were living in. “but… I do have a feeling that tests may have to be done on the planet. If we can’t leave the planet, I don’t think anything else native here can.”

Saru’s head tilted first, “Yes…. The fruit that Captain T’Sol had in her transport, the food withered and disintegrated shortly after T’Sol….expired.” Wincing at his phrasing.

“Maybe it’s best that no one consumes this food.” Tilly spoke, “If it went off that quickly in a bowl, think what would happen in our _stomachs_ …”

“Or weeks down the line...” Landry added, cautiously as she reproached the group “The body extracts nutrient from the food. If all you’ve eaten in the last month is this food and you leave the planet. You’ll starve to death before you dock.”

“Could explain a lot.” Michael mused, though not shocked. If the planet’s water or depth water was like the pit and the plants used that to grow… then of course, it’s own effects would withdraw. Logical even. Even if her injuries wouldn’t kill her, starvation would. She had been here too long.

Tilly looked a little deflated, eyeing the blueapples sadly.

Michael chuckled. “Well, I’m still open to anything you bring down. I could…really do with a new pair of shoes and more clothes as you offered. Winter is a few weeks away and… anything like fabric-based plants is such a pain in the ass to grow. It took a month to get silk pods…” Gesturing to the station set up by the door.

“Ooh, I’ve always wondered how silk came became fabric.” Tilly eyes the machine carefully, “I didn’t know you knew how to build a…spindle?”

“No, I didn’t originally but T’Sol taught me a lot in bushcraft over the last 2 years. As she’s more telepathic than I am, she’s more connected to the planets neurogenic field. Probably picking up splinters of native and primitive skill work of faded minds within it.”

“….okay we should _really_ crack on with those scans.”

Michael smiled, her knife cutting peeling away the skins of the potato roots and tested some of the pots of water to see if they were hot enough then began to cut them into smaller chunks to soften further.

* * *

Tilly had gone back to prep the team down, though Philippa too had to leave to brief Starfleet though she knew Saru lingered around, though he seemed to find an interest in the little garden they had in the makeshift greenhouses.

“You know…” Saru started, not looking up from his tricorder as she approached, “After…you death we all reflected on…what had happened.”

“It was no ones’ fault. Captain Georgiou told me to not get so close to the edge.”

Saur shook his head. “No, that I knew. But…how we left things, with each other I mean… it left me with a sense of unease.”

Michael stood beside him. Her arms folding over her chest. “You were only doing your job.”

“I... I didn’t want you to be the one to run the assessments.”

“I know.”

“But… I could have indulged your curiously a little more than I did.”

“Admiral Cornwell wanted you to keep it classified. I had to go through Georgiou to get more information.”

“That… was a little lie, Michael.” His lip pursed, “I…recommended to the captain that we refrained from oversharing with you. My official reasoning was that you were to go to prison at the end of the war so… we didn’t want to give you more than what you had. A planet like this…”

Michael’s head bobbed slowly. “You were being petty.”

“I…said that so I could remain the lead investigator.” He clarified. “Your own guilt… I knew you wouldn’t go to her.”

Michael snorted. “You weren’t wrong.”

“But that…doesn’t mean I was being professional.”

“It’s…far too late to dwell on the past, Saru. If you’re feeling guilty then…forgive yourself for that.” her hand came forwards, patting his arm. “T’Sol maybe be Vulcan but she’d helped me get through…the guilt and the trauma of my past. I’m…still not quite there but I’ve come along away since we last saw each other.”

Saru’s eyes rose from the tricorder, putting it away before he turned to her. His expression was soft. “In all honesty, I expected you to be furious at me…at Captain Georgiou and… well all of us.”

A soft chuckle left her lips, arms coming to cross over her chest. “Me too. I’ve… I’ve held onto a lot of anger and rage, especially on the worst days I’ve had here. But… the _reality_ is different, Saru. How could _any_ of you have known I was even alive for you to come back in the first place?”

“You expected us to come back?”

Michael shook her head. “No. I used to. The first year, I hoped that you would and…when the year was ticking by I had to let you all go. Move on. My next focus was… to _immediate_ things. Did I fix the roof? Is that lemur gonna steal our food again, did I plant those seeds so we don’t need to travel 30 miles to get more, did I feed the silkworms…try not to tread on a snake again.” Michael listed airily. “I… I did think of the crew often. I wondered how the war was fairing. I’m happy to see you survived it…and the ship.” And _Philippa_.

Saru’s head bobbed softly, though his gaze turned back to the garden. “It’s…quite astounding of what you’ve been able to build in such amount of time.”

“We’ve had a lot of time. Both of our physical strength and endurance has increased since we’ve had to work hard though… we planned out a majority of things in advance. Food and shelter were our first priority, then, to keep a supply going… we reused what we had to create our gardens.”

“It’s…beautifully done.”

“Thank you. This is one of five, this is our medicinal patch. Further down is root veg, another is one I‘ve got prepped for wheat-based plant and… we’ve got another for corn-based plants. Most plants are root-based veg, no doubt more in part to the frequent earthquakes. We’ve been growing some plant seeds into saplings so we’re hoping to get more of our fruit trees closer as well.”

“You’ve made this planet into a home.”

“It’s not paradise… but yeah. I suppose it is.” By choice or not, it was her home now. It was T’Sol’s home and they could do nothing about it. But… she supposed this was…better than federation prison now because things were easier to get; she had the freedom of a planet to roam, even if they were confined to it.

Michael’s mind wandered down that road. What could the federation actually do now? She had died. There was no way to fake that and removing her would kill her. She had been sentenced to life imprisonment and that had been true _until_ her heart had stopped. Her sentence must have ended at the same time then. Michael made a note to ask the Admiral if she came down.

“Would you allow Dr Culber to come down and run proper scans on you? I don’t think Starfleet is going to be satisfied not knowing how you…came back, so to speak.”

“Of course.” With their scans, he’d have much more data to gather and to unfold. She wanted to know too, the science behind it was still out of their grasp but…discovery should be able to understand more to satisfy Starfleet. Though this planet would now be otherwise useless for them, they couldn’t live on this planet without being condemned to outlive their lives on it and they couldn’t use it for agriculture without losing the crops, the unsettled quakes made it too unstable for mining… all in all, it was an illusion of the desired M-class planet. A perfect prison planet of course.

“I am sorry about what happened to Captain T’Sol.”

Michael turned back to the Kelpien then shrugged. “It’ll take her a few weeks to settle back. Waking from the waters is…incredibly disorientating and…overwhelming. Vulcan’s are more affected, it can affect their hormone balance and they lose the ability to fully suppress their emotions, even if they’ve gone through Kolinahr.” If Pon Farr hit the Vulcan again, she’d certainly do her best to not get her ass handed back to her so easily.

Saru nodded, his fingers fiddling with his tricorder. “I see.”

Michael offered a smile before she turned and padded away back to the boiling pots.


	21. Awake

“ _Alive_?”

“Yes, Admiral.” Philippa nodded swiftly to the admiral, watching her old friend as she paced a little, her arms folded with a sceptical look.

“All this time?”

“I know how it sounds, Admiral Cornwell but yeah, she’s been living on the surface since we left her there.”

“And you’re sure she was _dead_ when you left?”

“Well…. an 80-foot drop would certainly have done the job.” Philippa spoke, her tone drying up because she knew that the admiral was trying to find other logical reasons why Michael would still be on the planet. Alive “We’ve got all our teams running research onto the planet. Michael and her companion had also been studying the planet and have drawn the hypothesis that the planet itself may not be naturally occurring. Those that die on the planet and are submerged into a chemical pool, become symbiotically part of the planet as like with anyone that consumes food for long periods of time would also be changed. Death would occur if removed”

Admiral Cornwell paused a fraction though stayed quiet until she had finished speaking. “You removed one from the surface and they _died_? _Again_?”

“Yes, Captain T’Sol. We transported her off the planet, twenty minutes later she suffered catastrophic crush injured on the biobed. She’s since been returned to the surface and Michael’s left her submerged in that pool I spoke about. She assured she’ll be back soon enough if disorientated.”

Cornwell’s hand came to her hair, brushing through her dark locks. “So, an artificial planet that can reawaken the dead and has one Starfleet captain and one Starfleet prisoner that are confirmed deceased….”

“You doubt me, Admiral?” At least, that was what Philippa was hearing and it bothered her. What did she not believe? “I’ll send you the reports and a photograph of both victims here for proof. They’ve both been building up a home to survive, hell they’ve even got a vast garden going and plans to domesticate a lemur.”

Cornwell stared at her for a moment then shook her head. “I don’t…doubt what you’re saying, Philippa, but…. I told you not to go there.”

Philippa’s jaw clenched but nodded, “I’m glad I have done now. To know I left her 10 months longer than I should have is…hard.” She could have spared the two so much with what they had been dealing with. Survival was not easy and those it was clear to see the two were doing everything to make their trip easier.

Cornwell’s gaze softened. “I’ll wait for further reports. Do what you can to ensure they remain healthy but Discovery can’t just be focused around the planet while we’re still getting our baring’s from the war still.”

Philippa nodded. “Of course, Admiral.”

With a sharp nod, the line closed and Philippa let out a heavy breath of relief, glad to be alone as she walked back to her desk and sat. On a PADD, she had pulled up many of the files and reports from the surface since she had left. She had wanted Saru to do this but… she had to do it herself given the circumstances; it would hardly be appropriate if Saru had done such a report instead of his captain.

But at the bottom of her reports was a single form, since the war’s end, there had been an offer of a promotion. Fleet Captain, awaiting if she accepted it; enabling her to also retrain Discovery as her ship given how new It was to the federation. She hadn’t been able to decide yet. Now… how could she take this position with this discovery now? How could she leave Michael here again to fulfil her duties as a fleet Captain?

The door pinged.

Philippa placed the PADD down, “Open.”

On the other side of the door, Commander Landry strolled in.

“Captain, we’ve sent down an adequate amount of supplies to the surface, and have also received a few samples from the surface for further testing’s, including a fluid sample from the pit.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” At least now they could make life easier for them. “How are they?” Her mind touching to the captain.

“Michael is… well, bossing everyone around. She’d got two people in a cave to pull the Vulcan out when she wake and Saru helping with some of the gardening. She also managed to stun her lemur nemesis and got that in a makeshift cage with fruit to bribe it to love her for the next foreseeable future.”

Philippa snorted at Landry’s listing of the situations. “Anything new about the planet?”

Landry nodded. “The planet is… most certainly artificial. Further scans of the northern hemispheres have found long-decayed ruins of what could have been a landing port and a few skeletal remains which a team is checking over. There are also several unusual fields being generated from deep within the curst from buried pylons; seismic charged to work with the tectonic nature of the planet.”

“Pylons?”

Landry nodded. “Stationed around the entire planet, 415 in total but only 392 are active. They not only generate an energy and neurogenic field, but it also seems to…line up directly under the pit by several hundred miles. Each pylon has its own pit.”

Philippa sat up. “That’s interesting, they have to be connected somehow.”

Landry nodded, “Saru believes that this planet was either Class D or L and was terraformed by a highly advanced species hundreds of years ago. Pylons could have been a part of sustaining life on it and remained there ever since”

Philippa nodded but her mind reeling with information. It made sense though to why the pit was so _potent_ ; if the pylon underneath was still emitting the chemicals it had needed to start the planet’s life, it had to be through the water systems… with that much concentrated and a body was to fall in…. of course, the chemicals did what it was programmed and brought life back. Seeding into the DNA and neutralising once it was away…

“Perhaps there was a design flaw…”

“Captain?”

“Why design a planet you can’t forage from? Why design a planet that you can’t leave if you stay there too long?”

Landry’s head tilted, “I don’t know, Captain but it’s an interesting debate for the science teams.”

Philippa nodded, “We should expect a Vulcan cruiser to make an appearance in the next 48 hours, in the meantime, I’ll be returning to the surface.”

“Captain!”

“I will not hear your arguments, Commander Landry.” She rose to her feet, though she gasped a little as pain ran through her chest, forcing her back into the chair, her hand coming to her chest.

“Captain!” This was less scandalous, more concerned, the security chief hurrying forwards.

Georgiou held up her hand. “I’m…fine.”

Landry didn’t look convinced. “Do you want me to get you some hyposprays from the med bay?”

She shook her head, taking shallow breaths, straightening her back and forcing her chest to stretch through the strain. “No, just a flair up.”

“You were tossed around on the planet, Captain Georgiou, of course, it’ll flair your injury.” Landry stepped back, her arms folding behind her, her face melded with concern nonetheless.

The pain slowly resumed back to its usual constant ache, Philippa took a moment before she had the strength to try and get to her feet again. Her fingers coming to undo her jacket, tightening up her brace support a little more at her shoulders.

“Once I’m down there, I’ll send Saru back up for the Con to oversee the ship,” Philippa said, rezipping her jacket.

* * *

Michael watched carefully as the replicator was installed into the main’s wall. The equipment looking so odd and out of place against the stone walls but yet, she looked forwards to using it. She could have more _clothes_

“Rid you retrofit the entire outer shell to be waterproof? Winter brings torrential rains.” Michael asked after a moment to the engineer.

“We’ve run a structural analysis of the building and added an insulation later between the walls and the mechanics.”

“Since it’s a portable brand, it using a battery we can recharge, yes?” Michael continued.

“Yep. Though it’ll take four full sunny days to recharge the battery once depleted with a solar charger.”

“Can you create a charger that absorbs heat and kinetic movements?” With other batteries, of course, it’ll only mean they’d change the battery and still have full use. They’d certainly want to tap into the earthquakes.

The two engineers look to each other then back to her. “We’ll put it on the list.”

Michael nodded, “Thank you.” She padded out from her home and tossed another log onto the fire though allowed her gaze to survey some of the others. A crew was by the pit, secured by their rope to the frame they had made so no one was at risk of falling as they conducted their scans and research to the pit. Until one looked up sharply, eyes flickering around until they landed on her.

“Michael! The Vulcan is starting to stir!”

Michael jumped straight into the action and darted towards the pit until she reached the edge, her heart thumping with an edge of fear at the drop though she could see the movement of the rope..

“Everyone, grab the rope and pull. T’Sol’s still on the rope, she’ll be light.” Everyone put down what they were doing, the team pulling the rope and moving into an orderly line as they began to tug.

Michael kept her eyes down though she gradually saw T’Sol’s head resurface before the rest of her, twitching and the water dripping off her. A low groan echoed from the Vulcan.

She lent down, her hand coming to grab at the Vulcan’s shoulder as she neared the top. Saru’s hands beating her to it as he swooped down and gracefully plucked her up and out of the pit and dragged her a few feet to the dirt and stone. Michael darted to her side, her hand coming to press against the captain’s abdomen and watched as green-tinted water pushed from her nose and mouth before she spluttered lightly, not quite all _there_.

“Stay back, secure the framing. I do not want her to make a run and fall back into it” Michael warned the other back; how T’Sol was going to react, Michael didn’t know but she had to be careful. Her fingers dug into the tight knots, prising the rope away and unwound it from her shoulders and tossed it away.

“Captain T’Sol.” Her hands moved to roll the Vulcan onto her side and press into her gut further. The Vulcan’s body twitched then convulsed before another spurt of liquid was forced out. The Vulcan’s eyes flickered open, hazy and confused, though she felt the woman’s senses kick back as she heaved for breath, coughing and spluttering heavily before she pushed Michael away and rolled into her hands and knees, dark green blood the last to erupt from her mouth, leaving her panting for breath.

Seeing Saru’s mouth open, Michael’s hand shot out, giving him a warning look to shut up.

T’Sol groaned out. Her hands shaking as they came to her face covering her eyes then to her ears.

“Captain T’Sol.” Her voice rung low, purposely to not overwhelm the Vulcan’s haywire of senses.

T’Sol groaned out, high pitched and distressed as she hugged her head. Slowly, Michael moved, carefully resting her hand on her shoulder, feeling the recoil but there was no resistance. Slowly, Michael shifted and gently began to pull her up.

“Bedtime.” She whispered and finally got the captain onto her feet, more or less dragging her away towards their home, shooing out the engineer that was more or less done and pushed the Vulcan onto their bed and pulled a blanket to cover her fully. The fact that she was met with no resistance told her a lot about T’Sol’s current mental state; she had to rest and sleep it off.

Michael secured their makeshift door in the fame before she turned, finding herself face-to-face with Philippa.

“How is she?”

Michael sighed, gesturing them away from the door. “Disorientated. Light and sound are overwhelming after the initial awakening. Sleeping after is necessary now the brain is back into functioning.” She remembered going straight off to sleep as soon as she had pushed herself out of that pit; things were still rough a few hours later but… nothing nearly as extreme. Going through it a second time… definitely worse than before.

Philippa’s eyes flickered to the door. “I hope she’ll be fine.”

“It’ll take time, Captain.” Michael gave her a tight smile, “Here, I think I should show you around to where your teams are, Dr Culber’s still getting set up to run his tests on me.”

Philippa nodded, “Okay, lead the way, Michael.” She smiled, making Michael blink as she felt her heart pick up a fraction but squashed it. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's not the longest but you've all been waiting so I thought i'd gift you something for your patients. 
> 
> as usual, drop some love and some Kudos and i' hoping the next chapter would be more exciting XD


	22. Vestige of a death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is going to go into further detail of Micheal's injuries so probably then read with caution. Also a vomit tw at the end for those who need that sort of warning.

The sight of a 23rd century biobed and scanner inside a primitive structure like her home was somewhat culture-clashing to the rest of her home. The biobed was hooked up to a large power cell and a mobile monitor though the walls had been redecorated and sealed off from the potential of weather leaks.

Michael watched curiously as Dr Culber and Dr Pollard was occupied with running calibrations though she was surprised to see her own Bio scan from the Shenzhou there; the last time a full bio scan was performed with immense details. Prison had its own scans but not like this nor this sophisticated like a star ship’s one.

“What have you been able to find out, Michael?” Philippa asked quietly, both of them watching him work.

“We’ve only ever had tricorders, basic scans can’t give us a lot to the cell-by-cell workings” Plus, she had already submitted her scans forwards. It felt redundant to really repeat them. “I think...this will give us all we’ll need to know. I’m looking forwards to it, hopefully, a lot of questions will have answers.”

“Maybe we can devise a way to get you and Captain T’Sol off the planet?”

“Hm.” Michael held very little enthusiasm with that. Unlikely, her gut spoke but she’d allow the captain to have that hope; that little shred of hope would be good for Philippa.

Philippa stepped forwards towards the biobed, “Dr Culber, Dr Pollard, how long until you’re ready?”

Pollard’s head raised, “We’ve just finished up final calibrations and synced everything up to Discovery’s medical bay as well out of precaution. Having such advanced systems running on a power fuel cell may cause some problems.”

“I see.” Georgiou sighed.

“But we’re otherwise ready now,” Dr Culber spoke up, smiling softly his eyes lingering onto Michael though without further prompting, slipped past the captain and placed herself onto the biobed though it felt she was sinking straight into a firm marshmallow; felt so good down her spine.

“Oh, comfy.”

Culber laughed softly, “You’re the first to say that.”

“I’ve spent the last two years sleeping on a stone bench covered with foliage as a mattress and a blanket for the bedding.” Michael pointed out, allowing the doctor to fix electro dots to either side of her temple. “By comparison; this is Heaven.”

The smile lingered though the biobed flattened back, and the scanner began to descend down her frame.

Michael was aware as Philippa dismissed a few of the lingering officers so it was just the four of them and as she sidled up to her, eyes flicking between her and the screen until the scanner retracted back after the scans were done. Michael stayed down, enjoyin the comfort as she watched the two doctors talk over the scan before Pollard looked to her.

“Burnham, since you….resurfaced, have you had your menstrual cycle?”

Michael frowned, sitting up to look at the scans then back to the doctor. “Yeah, Once every six months.” Which she had come to adjust with but it was hardly something she and T’Sol talked about unless they had to clean something. It was…personal and embarrassing, even if it was biology though she was well aware the gaps between were…unusual.

“How do they feel, by comparison of before here?”

Michael sucked on her teeth, “Brutal. But that’s what makes it easier to anticipate. We have medical plants for painkillers. Me and T’Sol tend to take the time off to deal with this privately when our cycle hits.”

“The flow?”

“Heavy. Tend to last 4 days before gets lighter. Stops entirely after seven days”

Pollard winced sympathetically. “From the look of it, you’re probably due within the next coming week, I’ll try and come up with some remedies to help stem the pain before it hits you on the first day.”

“Thanks, though…why did you ask? Periods are personal things.” Though she was glad nonetheless it was limited to two medical professionals and Philippa than anyone else.

Dr Culber took the stand this time, moving the monitor to face her fully to get a full view of the screen. “As people age, their DNA divided, as someone gets older, the strands get shorter and shorter. In your scans, your DNA strands are more or less the same as they were two years ago.”

“What?” Michael could pick up what they were putting down here… but it didn’t make much sense to _why_?

“You haven’t aged, at least not to a noticeable degree of our scans. Functions, such as hair and nail growth continue on, but your menstrual cycles are still an indication of how your body is adapting to the environments. There’s a high chance that it’s purposeful given it’s still going. If you stopped again, you wouldn’t need to have a period. So I would like Dr Pollard to run a fertility check on you later, if you want.”

Michael sucked in a slow breath but said nothing. A warm hand come to her shoulder in a tense grip but it felt good to assure her

“What else does it tell you?” On the screen, she could see her bone structure that had strong white lines running throughout which felt like it was bigger news. She had a fair idea of what it was showing given she certainly recognised the placement of the broken bone T’Sol had given her in their spat. Another from a bad fall a few months ago.

“While your body is…able to heal rapidly, it looks like there are still…residue of injuries that remain. Broken bones line your entire bone structure, partially your skull and back, I suspect those were…impact injuries.” Culber’s eyes softened with sympathy and Philippa’s grip tightened, her breath hitched a little.

Michael zoomed to look at the lines that ran through her skull, rotating to see the damage which…felt unsettling. Her skull fractures radiated from the centre of the back and out and around the skull, the white was so dense, she could assume that the bone had just been…crushed. Her revival must have forced the bone back into place but the damage; it all lingered. The damage crossed over her entire skull; Michael’s hand came to her head, weaving her fingers through her braids though pressed against her skull to feel it was all just…solid.

All down her spine, her injures were consistent with the rest, the trail from one fracture to the next. _All_ the bones in her body was affected. She couldn’t have been saved then… if these are in waiting, she couldn’t be saved now.

“What are the state of my organs?”

Dr Culber’s lips tenses but changed the screen to show that. This was less obvious, but it took a moment to see the light scars over them. Her liver had at least three running down, thin like thread but there nonetheless. Lines also seemed to cross through her intestines though she found herself noting the scar across her aorta. Her heart had torn…deceleration probably.

“Shit.” The grip on her shoulder disappeared though Michael was surprised to see Georgiou suddenly walking out the room, her hand to her chest but she had seen the look on anguish over her face.

“Philippa?!”

With a wash of Gold, Philippa was gone and leaving her feeling dumbfounded at her sudden exit

Culber’s hand came to her shoulder, pulling her attention away with a kind smile, “Give her a moment, Michael.”

Michael shook her head, turning her gaze from the screen. “I’m a walking dead woman, Hugh… I can’t be saved.”

She couldn’t leave. She knew as much but seeing this extent; she felt was barely a fraction of the injuries. Her death may have been instant and quick… but it was horrible to still see the damage that stayed. Kept her prisoner here like a noose and she was on the gallows.

“You’re living, Michael.” Culber spoke, “Your heart _beats_ , you're breathing air, you’re not dead.”

“Look at it, it looks like I’ve just been _reanimated_.”

Pollard’s hand came to her shoulder. “You’re alive, Michael. I know…this is scary to see but that doesn’t define what you’ve become. This science, we don’t understand but we’re trying to.”

“I get that…”

Pollard’s fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Knowing what happened to you isn’t going to be easy, but… let’s take this one step at a time.”

Michael sucked in a breath or at least forcing herself to really. “What other tests did you have in mind?”

* * *

Guilt and nausea sat in Georgiou’s gut as she sat in her quarters, at the end of her bed, her fingers clenching tight around one of her ornaments to feel a form of connection to her present but it wasn’t really working; her mind kept going _back_ two years. To the worst day of her life.

_It had been the sharp motion of Michael’s body that had caught her attention; the second realisation that Michael had been much closer to the pit entrance than she had, that she realised why she moved so oddly; she was falling **back**._

_Into the pit._

_“Michael!” Horror seized into her belly but her body kicked into action; adrenaline shooting through her veins as Michael disappeared out of sight—_

Dr Culber had already explained the injuries in those types of death after that, of course when she had been in sickbay. Fast. Instant. A _mercy_ that Michael had, much better than being forced to ensure minutes of agony at the bottom of that well _alone_. How many times had she had that nightmare; of seeing Michael fall… or nightmares of hearing her name call her from the bottom; begging her even to come save her.

Now she had front row seats to see the reality of the fall. The emotional work she had done to help get over this was being **_undone_**. Seeing what had killed her… god so _much_ had killed her…

It made her feel sick; she much rather wanted to see T’Kuvma’s blade piece into her _own_ heart again than see that. To verify her fear and guilt. Michael was really condemned to the planet now.

_Philippa found herself staring down at Michael who was barely hanging onto the rope but she could feel the panic in her veins… the ache that called to her muscles to let go. But she fought them… she had to hold on. She couldn’t let Michael go. Not like this…. Not now. She could barely breathe…_

_“Captain…” Michael’s voice echoed up, her voice sounded very light and shallow. “I have to let go.”_

_Georgiou’s eyes opened, sucking in a shallow breath that burned straight into her right lung… but for a second, it was all numbed as she saw Michael…. Despite being near the end of the rope; she was clinging to it tightly, her boots maneuverer to press against the white rocky surface of the lower tunnel that seemed to make all the difference in not increasing her weight in odd motions._

Guilt felt like it was choking her now, wrapped around her throat in a vice grip that felt like she couldn’t breathe while the pain from her injury felt so mild now…

Her hands shook her grip tightening to the point she could feel the pain run through her tendons as they pulled and strained around the object, her fingertips going numb…

_“I’m sorry, Philippa.”_

_Philippa gasped out sharply as the weight on the rope disappeared; reliving the immediate strain. “Michael!” but all she could do was just watch… seeing Michael’s prone form suddenly got smaller… then the sickening wet thud that echoed; then there was nothing._

She let this happen.

She had killed Michael.

Nausea got too much, her mind replaying the wet thud over and over again until she couldn’t take it any longer and Philippa gasped out before she turned and threw up into the floor, her eyes watering and her head span and for a moment, she thought she could see darks splashed of red within the puddle before she felt herself slump back onto her side….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, i know this is super short but I think that Philippa would have the worst reaction of seeing what the fall damage really was. It's a fear of hers she's had since Michael's death and though Michael is alive now; it doesn't erase what has happened. Philippa may have taken strides to help get through the fact in the two years since, this is a setback for her emotionally. 
> 
> Now, I am a little stuck on what I should do bc I have two potential paths I could take for them so I need your help on which path I should do.
> 
> A; Discovery somehow finds a way for Micheal and T'Sol to leave the planet (quite tricky so will require some time to plot out a way)
> 
> or
> 
> B; Micheal and T'Sol can't leave the planet but they find people to come and live with them. ( 
> 
> ( or C; someone could prod me with a few ideas and I'll see if it works? )
> 
> I do have ideas for both but I want to cast a vote on where I should go with it. if it's undecided, I'll go and pick it via a randomiser


	23. Time scale

“….Captain?”

Philippa’s eyes fluttered, hazy and unfocused before she found the face of Dr Culber hovering a few inches from her own, his face sharpening up and the white lights of Sickbay swimming into view from the brightness that haloed around him

“Wha…” She blinked, her hand coming to her chest, feeling the sharp searing in her chest that made her groan. “Ow.”

“Yes, _ow_ indeed” Dr Culer sighed out, straightening up before admiring a hypospray into her neck, the sharpness of the pain vanishing but it still twisted in her heart still. “You’re lucky I have your biomonitor tied into Sickbay, after your vitals got distressed, we were alerted and I returned from the surface.”

“No, Michael…Michael needs your expertise.” Philippa argued softly, “I need to go.” Pushing herself up before Dr Culber’s hand came to her shoulder.

“No, I’ve removed you from active duty, Captain Georgiou. Dr Pollard is with Michael. But you…not only did you stop breathing for a few minutes, but you also threw up and blacked out. Your cortisol levels are off the dangerously high and this amount of stress isn’t doing your heart any good.” Culber reasoned tightly.

Philippa lay back, shaking his hand from her. “My heart is still going, Doctor.”

Dr Culber shook his head, “For now, but… you know that it’s going to stop sooner than later. You need that transplant, Philippa. Otherwise….” He paused, ruefully, “Otherwise your condition becomes terminal.”

The facts weren’t new but this time there was a lot more urgency to it; to hear him beg for this pulled at her but… no, she couldn’t change her stance. Even now. She couldn’t face it.

“No.”

A look of anguish passed over his face, “Your body won’t be receptive of a new heart or lungs if you keep pushing back against it until last second, Philippa.”

“I said _no_.” She gritted out, pushing herself off the bed “I will not have this discussion with you again. Give me my meds and let me go down to the surface. I won’t do anything you’d disapproval of but I _need_ to be with Michael. I don’t have the luxury to simply _wait_ until I’m 100% cleared when that’s now never the case.”

She batted Culber’s hand from trying to guide her back but he seemed to know he was fighting a lost battle because he gave her a stern look before turning to refill the hypospray. “Talk to Burnham, Captain. Is anyone deserves to know what’s going on is her.”

Philippa’s eyes narrowed. “She’s had too much to deal with in my absence.” That brought up an immediate welt of guilt again at the reminder, coiling in her gut but she pushed it away; the last thing she wanted was it to show on the monitor and firm up his stance to completely ground her.

Michael was barely getting an understanding of what happened to her…she couldn’t launch it on her now. She did need to know but…Philippa couldn’t allow it to leave her lips just yet. Not until she could find a good time to announce it.

Philippa accepted the shots, feeling the small bits of relief as her breathing eased up a little and the pain died a little more. Though he handed her a small case of refills and a new hypospray.

“Once an hour, every hour. I’ll inform Dr Pollard of your return so she can keep on top of it.”

Philippa almost rolled her eyes but nodded because this was better than she was expecting in the circumstances so why not take it as a win.

* * *

Philippa returned to her quarters, pleased to see everything had been cleared up; new bedding, her rug had been removed and she was satisfied to see a new set of uniform was on the side. Dr Culber hadn’t changed her out of her old uniform but she felt a new set would make her feel better. Feel clean and neat.

Though getting back to the surface, she was met with the hot humid heat that quickly had her shrugging off her jacket before retracing her steps back to the cabin to find it with only an Ensign who directed her to the Main home. Michael was occupied with Dr Pollard as she poked her head in, standing over the Vulcan’s bedside.

T’Sol looked to be more awake and aware though squinted through the darkness but allowed the Dr to run her tests.

“Your hypersensitivity to stimuli will start to fade out, I can give you something to help.”

“Thank you, doctor.” T’Sol’s voice was rasped and tight, but relaxed.

“We have a Vulcan ship on its way, Captain.” Philippa interrupted softly, “Ambassador Sarek is also on board, he wishes to speak to the both of you.”

Michael’s head turned to her sharply, her face masked with surprise.

“Just Sarek?”

Philippa paused then frowned, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” She had only seen the notification on her PADD before leaving, not enough details to get a crew manifest but she knew Sarek was on his way and no doubt T’Sol’s husband. He had to, it may be two years and while she didn’t doubt that the Vulcan would be sceptical, he had no doubt followed up to see if there was sustenance to the statement. Something she had a hunch Sarek was doing as well. If Amanda wasn’t here, it’d probably verify such a statement, is she was, then Sarek had pulled a risky move in opening up that emotional wound by dangling that hope.

Michael sighed but nodded. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

Her eyes dropped down, a frown pulling as she noticed the case she had. Philippa shoved it more behind her legs.

“I’ll…talk to you later, Captain, Doctor Pollard.” Michael forced a leaving smile onto her face, bidding her farewell before Michael brushed past her, her hand coming to pat at her arm, encouraging her to follow. Philippa dropped to case onto one of the shelves with a sigh and followed after her.

She could guess the topic before Michael took a seat beside the fire.

“Michael…”

“Sit, please.”

Philippa lowered herself down, withholding a gasp as pain shot up her chest but the moment faded and disappeared. Her hand lowered from her chest, inhaling softly. “I’m sorry I walked out on you.”

Michael’s gaze remained ahead, her shoulders slumping down. “I get that, I think. Seeing what happened to me is… a lot.”

Philippa nodded. “An understatement.” Not of the year, but it was certainly in the top five. “I’m… I’m sorry I let that happen to you.”

Michael shrugged, “I was the one standing to close to the edge, Philippa. It wasn’t like you pushed me into that pit.”

Might as well have, Philippa thought but didn’t voice it out loud. “It was still my away team. You were my responsibility.”

“Philippa, we can have this conversation over and over again on whose fault this was,” Michael’s voice lost its patients, underlined with irritancy “What are you hiding from me… because I doubt it’s that simple. Dr Culber left rather quickly after you did. Not a coincidence. You’re the only one on the ship that’s had a life-threatening injury in the past, I can do the math here.”

Of course, nothing did get past Michael, did it? Philippa’s hand came back to her chest, idly tracing under the support brace under her bust.

“What happened? Injury flair up? Deterioration?”

Philippa closed her eyes for a moment, fingers slipping under the tight band. “My heart is weak, has been since medical. But, at the time, they stabilised e with a patch-up job on the way to the Starbase and put into immediate surgery. The patch-up was good that…they didn’t see the need to replace the organ, just helped heal it up and replaced the sternum which had taken the brunt of the blade.”

“I remember them taking you away.” Michael mused thoughtfully, staring into the fire. “I was led straight to the brig, no one kept me informed of your wellbeing. What changed? Deterioration is not uncommon but not this quickly.”

“Grief.” She knew the other terms for it but this hadn’t been something she had thought would happen to her. “Grief can have Physiological effects on the body, especially the heart. The…heartstrings and the left valve thin out and there’s a higher risk of heart failure.”

“Takotsubo cardiomyopathy…. But isn’t that reversible? It’s a temporary condition.”

“Not for me, not on top of the injuries I’ve had. I… I don’t have that time anymore.” Just saying that made her skin crawl; made it a fact. Real, even.

“How long?”

Philippa sighed heavily, her throat feeling thick. “I…have about a month before the option of Transplant becomes unviable and…my condition becomes terminal. After that…weeks.”

Michael tutted angrily, shaking her head. “Why the hell haven’t you taken it?”

“I don’t want to.”

Michael took to her feet quickly, whizzing around to face her. “You don’t _want_ to?” Her tone turned sardonic. “Philippa, you’re dying. You have the option to live years, perhaps decades more with a transplant.”

Philippa patted the seat next to her, to coax her back down than to stare at the angry woman.

“I don’t want to, Michael, because I… I can’t face the pain of going back through the _entire_ medical procedure.” Her hand drifted to her chest, her eyes closing, “the pre-op, the operation then the aftermath of the surgery. Months again in bed or…having the doctors put me on the treadmill to ensure the heart is working well…I can’t face it. Not again.”

Michael slowly sunk back down as she spoke, her anger whittling away though there was the dent that remained between her eyebrows. “You think it’ll be worse than last time.”

“Last time was a patch-job and a new sternum. This…is a new heart and new lungs. A completely different set of _operations_. Retaining the position of a captain may not even be an option after that. Honourable Medical discharge is not uncommon for this sort of procedure. It’s…long term” She had looked at the options and she knew what was at stake. She’d lose her command once her condition became terminal but she was a month away from that.

Michael let out a heavy breath. “Either way…you’re screwed.”

Philippa said nothing. But she wasn’t a fool to not see what this planet had to…offer so to speak. She could live and thrive here but…how that’d affect Michael, she didn’t want to press that as a forced option onto her or the Vulcan, especially if Discovery finds a way to get them off the planet’s surface.

“Right now, I have time.” Philippa rose to her feet, “Let’s not waste it.” She reached around, her hand coming to grasp at Michael’s tightly, though long gone were soft palms, they were now firmer and calloused with hard labour but she felt good to feel her flesh; the real fact that Michael was still here. With her. It made her feel _alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite all this, I still haven't committed to a specific option of what their future is gonna be just yet, Georgiou still has time and she's not going to rush into anything bc that's not what'll help the situation at all.
> 
> But I did want to show that grief can be devastating, not just emotionally but there is a physical toll, now in Philippa's condition, this is not good anyway which raised the stakes on the options she'll have. It's a process.
> 
> as usual, drop you kudos, and your thoughts, feel free to shoot out your own ideas and all if you want :)


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